Submissive
by starcandy12
Summary: How far will the Slytherins go when they find out that Draco is a magical creature that is forced to submit to their every beck and call? Will the Golden boy be able to help? Or will he find out too late? HPDM, Creature fic
1. Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy couldn't, for all his life, figure out how he'd allowed his mother to convince him to return to Hogwarts this year. No words he could imagine she could have said that would have made him want to return this year knowing what could to happen to him, but she managed to do it anyway, convince him to come back and he now had a lovely scapegoat to blame his current situation in.

You see, Draco was currently in some unused hallway of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, frozen still, but by no spell, dreading the power a small group of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fourth-years had over him. Not the best situation to be in, but it could have been worse, Draco mused bitterly.

Draco was in his eighth year of Hogwarts now that the war was over and the Dark Lord was defeated by Harry Potter's hands, or wand to be specific. After the war, the leaderless and, thus, easily defeated Death Eaters were rounded up by the Ministry of Magic and most were put in Azkaban, the worst offenders given the Dementor's Kiss. That's where his father was, going loony in a dank cell in Azkaban, waiting for the Kiss. The only reason he and his mother weren't right there with him was because of the intervention of one Savior of the Wizarding World. Harry had spoken up for he and Narcissa, saying they'd both saved his life during the war, and claiming he wouldn't have been able to win if not for Draco's wand (_that he stole_; Draco was sore that he still hadn't gotten it back). With the Chosen One's testimony on their side and their word, under Veritaserum of course, that they'd been under threat of death throughout the war, they were spared Azkaban, but were too infamous to get away anywhere near unscathed.

Almost the entirety of the Malfoy fortunes and every one of the Malfoy properties, including, no, especially the Manor, was sealed off from the remaining, free Malfoys. They were given a small apartment near, but not too close (_can't have the Death Eaters _too _close_) to the Ministry and allowed on the barest amounts of money from their vaults to survive ("_What is this drivel? People actually eat this?_"). There were very few job opportunities to former Death Eaters, and especially few to Death Eaters as prominent as the Malfoys were, and, as a result, he and his mother were living in near poverty and being scorned by nearly all of the Wizarding world. Narcissa had insisted he go to Hogwarts when McGonagall, in an effort to get them their lost education, had sent all the locatable former seventh-years Hogwarts letters requesting they return for an eighth year. Draco had been adamantly against it then, for he had come into his Inheritance over the summer after the war and had no desire to be around other people, but somehow, in some way, Narcissa had convinced him (_Curse her for being so…so…_Malfoy) to return and he found himself seated on the back of the Hogwarts Express when school time came, being waved off by his mother.

Draco had tried to sit in the normal Slytherin section of the train, which was in the very front, but he quickly found out how far Slytherin loyalty ran. One glance at him and the Slytherins were dismissing him, shunning him now that his family had fallen. A few of the nastier Slytherins, including some who's families Draco knew had some not-so-good relations with his father, had sneered at him and he'd been unlucky enough to pass one of the older Slytherins too close and ended up flat on his face courtesy of a tripping hex. The train section had burst into laughter at his misfortune, and, face burning, he'd quickly shuffled out of the Slytherin section, too embarrassed to be near his housemates. The other Houses hadn't been much better, what with the Hufflepuffs' whispering and the Ravenclaws' blatant ignoring of him, and the Gryffindors had actually been worse, seeing as they jeered at him the entire time he spent in their section, and only a quickly cast shield charm had kept him from being the victim of a few hexes and even a curse. Outraged at the treatment he was receiving from the Houses ("_How _dare_ they treat a Malfoy this way!_"), he'd settled into the very back of the train, which was empty, and fumed until he tired himself out.

When the train finally reached Hogwarts, Draco was both terribly happy and horrified. He didn't have to stay on the train, which was dreadfully boring without any of his friends (_so-called friends_) to talk to, but not staying meant he had to leave, which required meeting people from the other Houses. Refusing to be cowed by the others, he'd left the train with his head held high, and would have made it all the way to the castle unbothered if not for someone calling his name. He'd stiffened and ignored them, but when they called again and told him to wait, much more forcefully this time, he'd frozen on spot, and schooled his features into that condescending boredom that usually graced his features, easily hiding his inner panic.

The one calling him had turned out to be his friend (_ex-friend_) Blaise Zambini, and he'd explained that he had no problem with the Malfoys losing their fortune, and that he, as well as Pansy Parkinson (_cow_), Theodore Nott (_traitor_), and Goyle (_oaf_) could look past that and still be his friend. Naively, he'd believed Blaise, and followed along with him to the Great Hall, ignoring the Golden Trio and the light, unsettled feeling he had when he passed them, and settled into his group of friends.

For awhile, namely about a few weeks, his life had passed normally, no, routinely, and he'd been as close to happy as he could be in the situation, gladly ignoring anyone and everyone besides his four friends, except for Potter and his crew, of course, though only paying attention to them to sneer and throw barbs. While surrounded by his friends, the others had backed off, and Draco had become quickly accustomed to being glared at and shot dirty looks when they thought he couldn't see, but no one had tried to hex him yet, or, thank Merlin, talk to him, so he'd been relatively safe.

The day his safety ended had arrived far too soon for his taste, and the event that changed his school year irrevocably was upon him, bringing Draco back to his current situation. He'd been walking down the hall, alone for the first time since the school year had started, going to get the book he'd forgotten in his dorm, when a group of young students wearing Gryffindor red and Hufflepuff yellow ties had spotted him and called for him. The second he'd heard the voice call his name he'd walked a little faster ("_Malfoys do not run_.") and tried to lose them in the winding halls, but the little buggers were persistent, and soon, he was within earshot of the shouting children, and one "Wait up, Malfoy!" practically snapped at him had him frozen once more, the cold magic sending shivers down his body.

The children had been surprised that he'd actually stopped, but quickly got over it, and there was where Draco currently found himself, frozen and at the mercy of a bunch of children.

"Well, well, well," drawled one of the little brats, the oldest-looking Gryffindor of their group, circling around Draco like he was a prize they'd caught. "is the big, bad Malfoy stopping for us little fourth-years?" Draco gritted his teeth, caught between cursing the child and cursing himself for walking off alone knowing the climate of the school towards him and his condition.

"…" Draco didn't reply, knowing that there was nothing he could say if he didn't want to reveal his secret to them. He had been trying to avoid this at all costs, though he knew it was futile, there was no way he could have avoided being called out with the reputation he now had.

"What, you can't speak, Malfoy?" the boy sneered, stopping in front of Draco and glaring up at him, seeing as Draco was a good two heads taller than all of them.

"Why should I? Do I really need to waste my breath defending myself against a little Gryffindork brat like you?" Draco huffed, unable to keep his mouth shut. He smirked at that look that spread across the brat's face.

"Why, you-!" the brat didn't even finish his sentence, just took out his wand cast a stinging hex. Draco bit his tongue in his attempt to keep back a yelp at the sudden pain, and glared hard enough to cause the watching Hufflepuffs to squeak and shuffle away from the group.

Draco practically growled in irritation and whipped his wand out, a stronger stinging hex ready to fall off his tongue when-

"Wait, stop!" the Gryffindork jumped away, most likely not having expected to have a wand turned to him. Draco cursed wildly in his head, keeping his face schooled into his trademark glare as the cool magic traveled his body, freezing his wand arm in place and stopping the hex before it left his lips.

It took a minute for the ruddy group to realize that Draco hadn't hexed them into oblivion yet, and they spent another minute staring in shock. Draco nearly cried in relief when the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and his friends, who had apparently been searching for him if Goyle calling his name was anything to go by, interrupted before the children could recover enough to ask _why_ he hadn't hexed them into oblivion.

"Draco, dear, what are you doing here with these brats?" Pansy sniffed, standing there with her hand on her hips flanked by Blaise and Theo with Goyle trailing behind. "Come on, let's go before class starts."

Draco bit his cheek, wishing she'd said it differently, and didn't reply. When nothing was said, Pansy stomped her foot and was about to snap at him (_thank Merlin for her impatience_!) but was interrupted by the oh-so-annoying Gryffindor k. "Weren't you going to hex me?" he asked slowly, then quickly as he continued "I-I mean, not that I want you to hex me or anything, but you have your wand out and everything…" the accursed child trailed, bringing attention to Draco's wand which, as he'd said, was still frozen mid-pointing at the child and his little ("_Weren't there more of them?_") group of friends.

"I…" Draco was forcing himself not to panic, especially as he could see Pansy's impatience being won over by her curiosity, meaning she wasn't moving until she found out what she wanted to know. "Why _haven't_ you hexed that brat yet, Draco?" she asked.

Draco looked away, then up, and back down again, then gritted his teeth. "I'll tell you later, Pans. Let's go to class."

Blaise and Theo frowned, Pansy scowled and Goyle just stared. "No," Pansy insisted, planting her feet firmly on the ground. "I want to know now, Draco."

Draco shifted his glare to her, ignoring his arm, which was starting to ache from being suspended in the air. "Later, Pansy," he said, voice dropping as close to a growl as a Malfoy could get. "Deal with these brats first."

"Why can't you do it?" Blaise spoke for the first time, staring pointedly at Draco's arm. "All you have to do is flick your wrist and say the hex. Why are you asking us to do it?"

Draco scowled. "I know quite well how to cast a hex, _Blaise_. I can't do it myself, don't you think I would have if I could?"

"_Why_ can't you?" Theo insisted, curiosity greatly peeked; Draco had never held back a hex before.

Draco looked between his friends, realizing, with dread, that there was no way to avoid telling them his secret if he wanted their help. His anger at their curiosity and resistance was crushed as a sense of helplessness (_Merlin I hate that feeling_) washed over him and he let a little of it show on his face when he said, "Later, Theo. I'll tell all of you later. Just do this for me so we can go," he glanced at them and saw that they weren't fully ready to take his word for it, then swallowed a sigh, and gritted out "_Please_." Merlin, Lucius would be turning in his grave if he were dead.

Shocked by Draco practically begging for something, Blaise absentmindedly sent a Bat Boogey hex at the now lone and long since deserted Gryffindor, and barely noticed the fourth-year running away. "What's wrong with you Draco?" Blaise murmured.

Draco sighed and looked away, trying to ignore the shame of having to say 'Please' to anyone, and mumbled, "To class now, then?"

He got some slow nods in response, and the group turning around to lumber out of the room. "Draco? Come on!" Pansy shouted when she realized Draco hadn't followed them.

"Coming," he'd replied, and followed, sauntering to the front of the group and falling back into his old self easily, acting as if the incident in the halls had never happened. The others let Draco pretend but knew they had some questions for him when they returned to the dorms.


	2. Chapter 2

The time to face his friends, a time Draco wished he'd never have to run into, arrived way too soon for him. He'd been avoiding it all day, discreetly (_hopefully_) changing the subject whenever it veered too close to the topic of what happened in the hallway. He swiftly avoided being alone with his friends, knowing that the second they thought they were alone they'd corner him. The looks that they gave him when he directly avoided the question, in his nervousness being not-so-discreet ("_Draco, what—" "Hey, when did Professor Binns say our essay was due?"_), told him that he wouldn't be getting out of this tonight. As Draco stared pointedly away from his friends while standing alone in the eighth year boys dorm, he found himself practically swallowed by his nerves; he was surprised to see that his friends weren't shallow enough to leave him for losing his money and name, but would they be able to stand this?

"Alright, spill it Draco," Blaise said lightly, with a stern undertone. "You've been avoiding this all day, but you're not getting away this time. Why didn't you hex that kid in the hall this morning?"

Draco bit his cheek, continuing to stare just above Blaise's shoulder. "I was going to…" he said, keeping his voice from wavering.

"That's not what he asked," Theo cut in, frowning at Draco. "Why _didn't_ you?"

"Guys, I—"

"Draco," Pansy interrupted, settling on Blaise's bed across from Draco's. "Just tell us. I'm sure you had a perfectly good reason why. Come on, we're your friends."

Draco scoffed. "Not for long," he muttered under his breath.

"Damn it, Draco! Just tell us why!" Blaise snapped.

The magic flowed to his lips and the words were out of his mouth before he could even stop them, "Because I _couldn't_!" (_Damn it all_!) Draco couldn't hide the self-resenting look that crossed his face at the unwanted admission.

His friends stared at him, stunned. "Couldn't? What do you mean you couldn't?" Theo asked, blinking at him owlishly.

"Your wand was up and everything, you could have just said the words and—"

"Wait a sec, Pans," Blaise said quickly, with narrow eyes at Draco. (_Why does he have to be so perceptive?_) "Say what you just said again, Draco."

Draco scowled, trying to cover his panic (_Oh Merlin, oh man, he knows, he can see, oh no, no, no, no_) and keep Blaise from seeing anymore than he already had (_it might be too late for that, oh Merlin no_). "No."

Blaise continued to stare and became harder toned. "Say 'Because I couldn't' again, Draco."

"No."

"Say it!" Blaise changed the way he spoke then, practically sounding angry in his sternness, leaving no room for questioning.

"Because I couldn't!" (Bugger all!) Draco started to rant and curse in his head at the magic in his lips, forcing the words out similarly to the way Veritaserum worked, though much more potent.

Theo and Pansy had now joined Blaise in staring at Draco intensely. Even Goyle, who'd been looking around stupidly now had his attention on Draco, who was trying his hardest not to fidget.

"What was that?" Theo asked slowly, looking between Blaise, who was smirking smugly (_bastard_), and Draco as if Blaise knew a secret they didn't.

Blaise turned to Theo and muttered, "Watch this," then turned back to Draco, who was glaring death three times over at Blaise. "Say…" Blaise thought for a moment," 'I love Hermione Granger'."

Draco's eyes widened and he looked at Blaise as if he'd grown a second head. "E-Excuse me?"

Blaise's infernal smirk grew wider. "Come on, you heard me, say 'I love Hermione Granger'."

"Absolutely not! I would never-!"

"Draco!" Blaise's sudden drop in tone and sternness froze Draco midsentence. Continuing in the same strict tone he said, "Say 'I love Hermione Granger'."

"I love Hermione Granger."

Draco flushed an angry scarlet and looked away, while Blaise shared smirks with the two shocked Slytherins surrounding him. Pansy was the first to react. "What?" she exclaimed, rising from her seat and bristling like a wet cat. "You love that Mudblood bi—"

"Pansy," Blaise interrupted, leveling her with his stare. "I don't think he said that willingly. I think he said it because I told him to."

Pansy blinked like an owl for a few seconds. "…What?"

Blaise ignored her, turning back to Draco. "I'm right, aren't I? Something about the way I said it made you do what I said."

"…" Draco was cursing fluently in his head again, wanting nothing more than to run out of the room or Obliviate his friends, anything to keep them from going any further. It was bad enough Blaise figured out that much, but when he told the others, and they demanded to know why he was forced to react this way…

"Answer me, Draco!"

"Yes!" (_Damn it!)_

"Explain why I can do that," Blaise demanded, staring down at Draco. Draco bit his cheek again and practically bit a hole through his cheek trying to prevent the magic from taking the words from his mouth, but to no avail.

"I have to do what I'm told to do when an order is given in a certain tone," Draco said vaguely, glad that the magic was satisfied with that answer.

"Why?" came Pansy's curious reply. Theo was watching silently, hanging back on Blaise's abandoned bed while Goyle just stood there.

"None of your business!" Draco snapped, beyond annoyed that they'd made him admit so much.

"Answer her," Blaise intoned, leaving no room for argument.

"It's something that has to be done by people like me," Draco said even more vaguely, knowing full well that they were going to weasel his secret out of him and he was just delaying the inevitable.

That confused them. Blaise shared a look out of the corner of his eye with Theo, then turned to the incredulous Pansy and then back to Draco. "You aren't a pure-blood?"

When Draco was silent once more, Blaise frowned in annoyance and said, "Answer all of our questions, Draco."

Draco shivered as the magic settled into his throat, and tied like a noose. "No," he muttered faintly, starting to feel defeat settling into his stomach.

"What are you, then?"

"A half-Veela."

Pansy gasped loudly at the announcement, and Blaise and Theo's faces darkened. Even Goyle looked surprised. "A what?" Pansy shrieked, staring at Draco in horror.

"A half-Veela," Draco repeated, looking away from them.

"How long have you known you weren't a pure-blood? Where do you get Veela blood from, if the Malfoys are pure-blooded? Why would being a Veela make you have to do what you're told? If you're a Veela, why don't you look any different?" the questions were shot off one by one, and Draco barely had time to think of what he wanted to say when the words were pulled out of him.

"Since I came into my Inheritance over the summer. I got my blood from my parents; my great-grandmother was a Veela, and her genes were passed down to my mother. My mother is ¼ Veela, and so is my father. I don't know where the Veela blood comes from on his side, he was arrested before he could tell me. I have to do what I'm told because I'm a submissive Veela. I don't look any different because I haven't met my mate yet; my appearance will change to suit him when I bond with him."

The others paused to digest what they'd been told. "What is a submissive Veela?" Theo asked, coming off of Blaise's bed to join Pansy and Blaise on Draco's, pushing past the flabbergasted Pansy who was mouthing 'He?' to herself over and over again. Theo had this predatory glint in his eyes that Draco knew he absolutely didn't like and when he shared conspiratorial glances with Blaise, Draco found himself hating it even more.

"A submissive Veela is one of two types of Veela, the other being a dominant. Submissives are Veela that are made specifically for their mate, and try to become their perfect spouse. Part of being the perfect spouse is not being able to step out of line or refuse one's mate, so submissive Veela have to obey the commands of their mate no matter what," Draco droned, separating himself from his friends, and relating to them what he'd learned from a book Narcissa had given him, taking away his personal feelings.

"Is Blaise your mate?"

"No. I don't know who my mate is, but I can tell it's not him."

"Then why do you have to listen to him?" Pansy asked. Draco could see that she wasn't looking at him like she normally did, all adoring and the like, and a certain hardness had replaced it. He'd known letting them find out about this would change their relationship (_Slytherins through and through_), but he'd stupidly hoped it wouldn't.

"An unmated submissive Veela is submissive to everyone, because anyone could possibly be their mate. When I bond with my mate, I will only obey him, but, until then, anyone who speaks to me in a certain way can command me."

Silence covered the Slytherin dorms for a moment as they took in his words once more. "So, when those Gryffindors in the hall had you earlier, they'd said something that made you stop moving?" Blaise asked slowly, unabashedly calculating.

"Yes. They told me to 'wait' so I stopped running, and told me to 'stop' when I was going to hex the kid, so I froze."

Blaise nodded wisely, then pulled away from Draco and turned to Theo and the others. "We need to talk about this," he said, almost coldly. "You stay here." And, just like that, his chance at escape was thwarted as the magic traveled to his legs, freezing them in place.

Draco said nothing as the other Slytherins left the bed and went to the other side of the room and talked in hushed whispers, keeping his Malfoy mask on on the outside, and panicking even worse than before on the inside. What would they do with him now, knowing what he was and what that entitled? Draco knew what he would have done if it hadn't been him: exploit this to the fullest extent. A horrifying thought occurred to him, then: Would they tell anyone about this? He almost let his mask slip as the thought of the entire school wielding this power over him came to mind. Oh Merlin, what those people who hated him could make him do!

Submissive Veela such as himself were becoming a rarity now, for the very thing that Draco was afraid of. When people learned they had so much power over another with something as simple as a few words they couldn't help but abuse it, and many Submissives had died, been abused far too much by the people around them, before they even found their mate. Submissive Veela, as a result, were on the endangered list of the Department of Magical Creatures, and they all were supposed to be protected by the Ministry, but after the war, the Ministry's attitude towards certain magical creatures, or the specific people who had that creature's blood, had changed drastically. Now, the Ministry made exceptions to their rule, stating that Death Eaters with creature blood, no matter how rare, were not to be protected. There had been very little uproar about this blatant injustice, seeing as neither side, pure-bloods or not, cared for Death Eaters with creature blood: they weren't pure enough for the pure-bloods and just being a Death Eater made them hated by the other groups. He'd known this when he'd been convinced to return to Hogwarts, which was why he'd been do against it, but his mother had insured that he would be protected here, what with that goody Gryffindor of a Headmistress McGonagall.

What neither Narcissa nor Draco had counted on was that McGonagall had no idea that Draco had creature blood.

Dumbledore had known of their carefully guarded secret and promised to protect Draco when he came into his Inheritance. Of course, Dumbledore had died before that happened, and, trying to appease the Malfoys—who guarded their secret so well that not even the closest man to them, Severus Snape, had known—had promised to not tell anyone else about their blood under an Unbreakable Vow. And so, he'd taken their secret to the grave, and left Draco unprotected.

"Alright, Draco, we've made a decision," Blaise announced, leading the others back to the bed. "We'll keep your secret and won't tell anyone that you're a filthy half-blood. But you'll have to pay a price for our silence."

Ignoring the expected slight against him, he inwardly sighed and muttered "What do you want?"

"You'll do what we say, when we say it, not questions asked," Theo said, then continued a bit airily, "Of course, we can make you do that, but you don't have much else to offer now, do you?" Theo, Blaise, and Pansy shared a laugh, which Goyle joined in hesitantly a bit later.

Draco glared. "What if I refuse?"

Theo smirked at him. "Like I said, we can make you do what we say, but if you still resist, well, Pansy might overhear a certain rumor about the Slytherin Ice Prince having to listen to what he's ordered to do. Some people might want to test that, you know?"

Draco glared harder, swallowing a growl that was threatening to escape him. "Bastards," he hissed. They just smirked at him, Blaise coming over and patting him on his head (_I'm not a dog_!) before turning back to his own bed and flopping onto it, while Pansy shot him a shrewd glare and went to the door, and Theo and Goyle went to their beds.

"Go to sleep, Draco. Tomorrow, you're going to be very busy."

Draco wanted to shout at Blaise to sod off, but his eyes were falling shut and he was falling back onto his bed and drifting into unconsciousness before his mouth could even open.


	3. Chapter 3

"Get up, half-blood!"

Draco was awakened (_quite rudely_) by Blaise's order, the cold magic pouring over as if Blaise had dumped a bucket of water on him. He shot up from the bed, shivering despite himself, and looked around the room wildly, startled at being suddenly wide awake. "What? What's going on?"

Blaise chuckled at his expense, holding onto Draco's sheets-which he'd taken away-and giving him a half-amused stare. "Nothing, mudblood. It's just time to-"

"Don't call me that!" Draco snapped, interrupting before he could stop himself. How _dare_ he call Draco, a Malfoy, a _mudblood_? The audacity! To be dropped to the level of those disgusting muggle lovers, even in only name, was unthinkable! He might have lost his money and reputation, but he still, very much had his pride, and it was taking enough of a beating knowing what he was and what that entitled; Blaise's name-calling was too harsh a blow for his wounded pride to handle.

"I'll call you whatever I want, half-blood. And you _will_ listen and answer, without question, and without fail whenever I, or anyone else calls you by any name. Understood?" Blaise intoned, stalking over to Draco with every word until he was towering over him, glaring down at him and practically reeking of authority. The noose of magic tightened with the added restriction, and it took all Draco had not to bend to his instincts and submit. Instead, he leveled Blaise with his own glare, though the effect was ruined by the trembling he couldn't quite hold back.

He ignored Blaise, and left his bed, striding purposefully to the bathroom. He took a long time in the showers, ignoring anyone and everyone that came in, secretly glad that he was never alone in the bathroom with any of his 'friends'. When he'd finished his shower (_couldn't stall anymore_), he finally left the bathroom, which was, unfortunately, less full than he'd hoped. With growing dread, he made his way to the common room, to find Blaise and Theo lounging in the chairs, while Pansy examined her fingernails on the sofa, and Goyle stood by the door, as if standing guard.

"Hello mudblood," Blaise said jovially, smirking at Draco vindictively. "We need to talk to you before we go to breakfast."

Draco gritted his teeth, and answered after a pause from Blaise, "Well, Zambini, what do you want?"

"We have some rules for you, that you _will_ follow," Blaise replied, sitting up a little from his seat and staring at Draco almost predatorily. A shiver went down Draco's spine at that look, and he unconsciously took a step back, biting the panic that threatened to overtake him.

"Firstly, you are not to tell a soul, living or dead, about you being a Veela, under any circumstances. You are also not to act any differently than you normally would towards us, or anyone else, unless we say you can. Lastly, you will do what we say without protest," Blaise announced, not once breaking eye contact with Draco as he leveled him with his stare. Draco wanted to curse him, and would have reached for his wand and done so, if the magic, with its new restrictions, hadn't burned him the second he touched his wand; cursing his friends was certainly considered 'different'.

Instead, he sent Blaise a resentful look, and haughtily said, "_Fine_. Now let's go," and sauntered out of the dormitory, exuding a confidence he couldn't feel, and leaving his friends behind. Luckily, the magic considered leaving his friends as something he would do, and actually let him make his way to the Great Hall alone.

"Hey, ferret, whatcha doin out here without your little snake friends? Didn't think you could be without them."

Oh hell! Draco had, in his rush to get out of his 'friends' company, completely forgotten that they'd (_as much as he hated to admit it_) been the ones protecting him. A quick flash of memory of the train ride to Hogwarts crossed his mind as he turned, face schooled into disgusted boredom, to the Golden Trio, specifically to the Weasel, who'd just spoken, ignoring the unsettling feeling he'd felt the last time he was around them that was returning.

"That's just one of the many things you were unsurprisingly wrong about, Weasel, and, from what I can see, it's you who can't be without your little pack of Gryffindorks," Draco replied scathingly, acknowledging Potter and the mudblood's existence with a sneer. This was perfect; just what he needed to let out his frustrations.

The Weasel scowled at him and spat, "Says the rat that's always been crowded by his Death Eater minions since school started. What's the matter, Malfoy, too scared to be all by yourself now that you're Death Eater daddy is rotting in Azkaban?"

Draco had his wand drawn in a second, and the hex was just on his lips when a sudden "Expelliarmus!" had his wand flying out of his hand and a "Stop!" (_not even aimed at me! What the hell_?) had him literally freezing in place.

Beyond annoyed at not only the dirty Mudblood, who'd cried out to the Weasel, who'd been taking out his wand, ready to hex or even curse him, and at that blasted Potter for stopping him from enjoying a nice, stress-reliving, well-deserved cursing, but at the unsettled feeling in his navel area that was getting worse the longer he stood there. If he wasn't so pissed at the aforementioned people, that feeling would have been worrying, and would have definitely garnered his full attention, but, seeing as he _was_ that pissed, he ignored it entirely, and sent the dirtiest looks he could manage to Potter and his friends.

"Give me my wand back," he said coldly, ignoring the other Slytherins and focusing entirely on Potter, who now had Draco's wand in his hand and was watching him calmly. The feeling had changed to a sort of tingling at that point, but Draco was too focused on his wand to care.

"No," was Potter's simple answer, eyes running over Draco flatly, then looking away as if Draco wasn't worth his attention. _How dare he!_

"And why bloody not?" Draco seethed, hating that he was still 'stopped' and, therefore, unable to throttle the boy in front of him. The rational part of him knew, almost painfully well, that making this much of a scene—and with the Golden Boy no less—was a very bad idea considering how few (_if any_) actual friends Draco had at Hogwarts these days, and how many enemies that were just waiting for their chance. To survive this year without his friends' help (_and Merlin knows how little of that he wanted_), he knew lying low would be his best chance and starting spats with the Golden Trio in the entrance of the Great Hall wasn't helping, but that rational part was completely crushed by his wounded pride.

"If I give it back, you'll hex Ron with it," Potter said simply, still looking and sounding aloof. "I'm not stupid enough to do that Malfoy."

"Wow, Potter, I'm impressed," Malfoy goaded, glaring slightly. "your tiny, little Gryffindor brain actually does get some use. Don't go thinking too hard now, Potty, or you might overwork it." In hindsight, insulting the person who not only had your wand, but had friends, who, when together, outnumbered you three to one and unknowingly had a magical power over you wasn't the best idea.

Potter glowered at him, and snapped, "Sod off, Malfoy," before turning away from him and tossing his wand carelessly over his shoulder in Draco's direction. Draco almost made himself pass out from resisting the magic long enough to snatch his wand out of the air, before letting the magic take him away from the Great Hall, heeding Potter's command and fuming the whole way.

"Whoa, half-blood," sneered Blaise, as Draco practically stormed past him and down the empty hallway, still in the process of 'sodding off' and intending to return to his dorm. Draco pointedly ignored Blaise, too miffed by his encounter with the Golden Trio be bothered with Blaise, and was rewarded with a snapped command of "Fall!"

"Argh!" _That bastard_! Draco could think of nothing else as the magic traveled to his feet, moving one too far in front of the other, and, the next thing he knew, he was kissing the cold, hard, dungeon floor. "What the hell, Blaise!"

"Don't ignore me when I'm talking to you, mudblood," Blaise said, coming to stand over him with Theo, Pansy, and Goyle in tow. "Get up. We're on our way to the Great Hall."

Too pissed to handle being bossed around then (_He shouldn't be bossing me anyway, I'm a _Malfoy!), Draco shot him a glare to freeze hell over and took advantage of Blaise's wording. Draco stood, as ordered, but then shot off in the opposite direction before his friends could see what he was doing; even though Blaise had ordered him to his feet, he had not ordered him to follow them.

"Draco! Com-"

Blaise's angry yell was immediately drowned out as Draco cast a silencing charm, preventing him from hearing the rest of the order. _Ha! Take that, Blaise. I won't have to listen to you anymore_. What Draco didn't realize, was that his charm worked a little too well. Yes, he couldn't hear Blaise or anyone else's order for the time being, but he also couldn't hear anything else, so when Goyle, sent after him by the others, came bounding after him, he couldn't hear the oaf at all, and, having thought he was in the clear since there was seemingly no one around, hadn't been going to bother to turn around, that is, until Goyle's hulking arms wrapped themselves around him and he was plucked off the ground like he was light as air.

"What-Ah-Hey! Put me down!" Draco spluttered in indignation as Goyle dutifully ignored him and carried him back to the waiting Slytherins. Pansy was standing with her hand on her hip, examining her nails, and looking, for all the world, like she would rather be doing anything else but stand there. Theo was watching Goyle manhandle a struggling Draco with a sort of bored amusement, while Blaise just looked annoyed.

Goyle stopped in front of them, and set Draco down without letting him go. "Here he is, Blaise," Goyle announced, and Draco felt a slight sense of betrayal (_Rotten buffoon, turning on me the second it's convenient_).

Blaise ignored Goyle completely, returning Draco's earlier glare full-force. With Blaise baring down on him with such dominating anger, and Goyle's mountain of flesh pressed to his back, preventing him from doing anything, Draco's anger was totally washed away, and Draco had to bite his lip to keep from whimpering. His almost overwhelming instincts were screaming at him to submit to Blaise and Goyle-and anyone else who happened to be around at the time-to look down and beg Blaise for his forgiveness. He was resisting far too much for a Submissive, and he knew he was pushing his luck.

"You will _not_ run away from us ever again, Draco. You will _not_ cast spells that block your hearing or do anything else that will keep you from hearing us without one of our permissions. You are going to stay with me all day today, and you will _not_ leave my side unless I say you can. Do you understand, Draco?" Blaise said smoothly, his voice cold and hard with repressed anger. A flash of anger and indignation passed through Draco at what following these specific orders would imply for him, and he was very much considering saying "No", despite the fact that he could feel the magic binding him to the words and knowing that resisting would be useless. Apparently, Blaise knew him well enough to know what he was going to say before he said it because one look at Goyle had the brute tightening his hold on Draco, and Blaise leaning in dangerously close to stare him in the eye. "You still want to disobey, Draco? Go ahead. Say it to my face."

"…." Draco couldn't possibly speak with that much intimidation pouring over him, and his resolve broke. He started to tremble hard, and, with eyes wide with fear, lightly shook his head, the only sound escaping him being a few strangled whimpers. The magic was surging through him, then, as he went limp in Goyle's arms, still staring at Blaise, and, with the last bits of his broken resolve, keeping the tears that were pooling in his eyes from falling. Blaise had already (_and was still going to)_ humiliate him enough, Draco wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing him break completely.

Blaise, seeing the change in Draco's demeanor, simply smirked and moved away, turning away from Draco as if he suddenly didn't matter anymore. "Come up here, half-blood, and act like you normally do. Looking at me like I'm about to eat you definitely isn't normal for you. Pretend like you're the Slytherin Prince again, and don't give anyone any reason to think anything's wrong with you, but remember your place, Draco, and watch what you say. It might come back to bite you when we're back behind closed doors."

Still shaking slightly, Draco silently did as he was told, falling into step a few paces in front of Blaise, and feeling the magic having his usual arrogance and contempt take over the fear and submission, until by the time they'd reached the Great Hall, Draco had a swagger to him that he hadn't felt since long before the war, and he was ordering his friends around like they were minions, and all traces of what had transpired in the empty hallway was completely gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Eating in the Great Hall was a plain affair, aside from the strange looks Draco was getting; he hadn't been anywhere near this haughty all year. Draco ignored the lookers completely, except to sneer at the ones who were just about gawking.

As their little group finished eating, Draco started to get up, waving to the others to follow. All of them moved, except for Blaise, who just sat there, frowning at Draco; when Blaise had asked Draco a question, Draco has insulted Blaise's intelligence (_"How don't you know that, Zambini? Even a third year could answer that."_). It was something Draco would do, but definitely not something Blaise was happy about. In a silent reminder of their power shifts, Blaise remained seated, and watched, amused, as an annoyed Draco tried to leave without him and almost ended up on the floor from the magic's pull. When Draco remembered Blaise's restriction, he quickly covered up an angry flush and turned, with a flourish, back to the table and sat back down, reaching for a piece of fruit as if he'd forgotten it and come back for it.

"Remember, Draco," was all Blaise said as he ate leisurely, purposely to annoy and admonish Draco. He got an angry scowl in return, which he reacted to by slowing down even more. Draco frowned and looked away, eating at Blaise's pace reluctantly.

The rest of the day went similarly, with Draco calling the shots until he went too far for Blaise's liking and was reminded of his lack of power again. They'd almost been late for nearly every class because Blaise didn't like being rushed (_lazy bastard_). Aside from Blaise's mini-scoldings, the day went smoothly, that is, until the last period of the day, the only period that Draco didn't have with one of the Slytherins. Draco had Ancient Runes, while the others had an assortment of other classes.

The five Slytherins were walking from Double Potions (_'the new professor is alright, but no where near Sev's caliber'_) when Blaise decided to slow down again, until their little group was alone in the hallway. Blaise smirked slyly at Draco and said conversationally, "So you'll remember the restrictions, won't you Draco, or will you have to come to Arithmancy with me and Theo?"

Draco scowled. Blaise had been reminding him all day. It was annoying and Draco very much wanted to punch him, but every time the thought crossed his mind he remembered what happened in the hallway earlier, and that, along with the magic heating to remind him of the normalcy restriction had Draco clenching his fists instead. "Yes, Blaise, I remember," he replied, briefly wondering how he would explain it if he showed up in Arithmancy and was unable to leave.

Blaise stared for a few moments, until Draco looked away, then nodded, "Alright then, go to Ancient Runes without us. Someone'll be there to get you when class is over."

Draco shivered as the previous restriction was replaced with this new one and a wave of cold traveled down his back. When orders that directly conflicted with each other were given the newest order canceled out the old one. Draco turned on his heel, and wordlessly headed out to Ancient Runes.

When he reached the classroom he was met with 2/3 of the Golden Trio, the Weasel probably too stupid to even try Ancient Runes. He expected to see the mudblood there; she was too bloody brainy not to take the class, but he hadn't expected to see Potter there; he'd never pegged him as the studious type and Ancient Runes required a lot of studying.

"Why hello there mudblood, Scarhead. Where's the Weasel, too stupid to make the class?" he taunted. For the entirety of the year up until that point Draco had been in his own little world, avoiding everyone that wasn't in his social group. Draco hadn't realized until now that the Golden Trio was missing a member in his Ancient Runes class.

Hermione frowned at him and tugged on a glowering Harry's arm. "Come on, Harry. Just ignore him," she said in a tight whisper, trying to get Harry into the classroom, but Harry was stubbornly standing still, glaring at Draco. Draco unconsciously shifted, fighting to keep Harry's eye but his instincts were telling him to look away and that, coupled with the strange feeling in his stomach that Draco was refusing to analyze was making him uncomfortable.

If Harry noticed Draco's discomfort he didn't react to it and, instead, he said, "Still got the pride and gall to insult us, Malfoy? You'd think that when you lost everything your bratty attitude would have went with it. Look, Malfoy, I don't have the patience for you and your childish and petty insults this year. I want to have a calm year this year and you aren't helping. If all you're going to do is be a prat, don't talk to us, okay?"

The noose around his neck tightened and Draco silently fumed, pissed at the order he was unknowingly given. He was about to snap out a reply to Harry's shot at his new status, but the magic deemed the reply too 'prat-like' and the noose tightened, stopping the words from escaping. Draco choked slightly as his hands unconsciously flew to his neck.

Harry and Hermione took steps forward as Harry immediately asked "What's wrong with you, Malfoy?"

"Nothing, you-!" Draco choked again as the magic stopped the insult from being said. In desperation, Draco hurried past the two of them and retreated into the classroom before Hermione's "Wait, Malfoy!" could take effect. He sat in his seat, dutifully ignoring the two Gryffindors, as well as the other students, until the magic forced his normal demeanor onto him, and even then, only acknowledging the others to sneer, the magic heating in warning whenever he almost insulted Harry or Hermione.

The strange feeling was bothering him the entire class period but Draco was still trying valiantly to ignore it. He'd noticed the pattern, that he felt that feeling only when he was around certain people and that the feeling was telling him who his mate was, but he refused to make the obvious connection; that his mate was the only male that had been around in the hallway when he felt the feeling. Draco was heavily in denial about his mate and knew it'd take something drastic for Draco to acknowledge his feeling. Besides, even if he did, Draco didn't fancy having his heart broken, figuratively or literally, which was what happened to Submissive Veela that were rejected by their mate too often. He'd go into a deep depression and die of heart failure of his mate rejected him knowingly four times. Draco didn't plan on even attempting to find his mate until he couldn't handle the situation himself, and, as far as he was concerned, he was handling it just fine.

When class was over, Draco left immediately, throwing a sneer at Harry, who'd settled for ignoring him, except to throw suspicious glances at Draco when he wasn't looking. Draco was unaware of this, and left before he accidentally said something that had him choking again. Theo was there, leaning coolly against the wall, obviously waiting for Draco. Draco glanced at him, nodded tersely, and stormed off towards the Slytherin dorms, expecting Theo to follow. With a roll of his eyes, Theo started to follow but was stopped by Harry grabbing his arm.

"What's wrong with Malfoy?" asked Harry, staring Theo down. "He choked when he was talking to us. He's all-of-a-sudden acting like a prat when he's been quiet all year. Did something happen?"

Theo scoffed, meeting Harry's eyes directly. "No, Potter. Nothing happened, and if it did, do you think I'd tell you?" Theo yanked his arm from Harry's grip, and followed Draco back down to the dungeons.

Draco was waiting for him when Theo arrived, angrily shifting from foot to foot. "Took you long enough," Draco greeted, glaring at Theo.

"You didn't have to wait for me," Theo replied easily, leisurely coming up to Draco. "Too scared of Blaise to go in by yourself?"

Draco flushed an angry scarlet but didn't say anything, looking pointedly away. Theo smirked, "Thought so." He stalked up to the portrait and said the password (_Salazar_), then let an indignant Draco pass him to enter the common room first. Theo followed smugly; he was highly amused by this entire affair and planned to use it to his advantage.

The common room was full of studying Slytherins of various years, working in small groups in established spots in the room. Blaise was speaking in undertones to Pansy while Goyle was sitting a small ways away, the three of them occupying the couch. When the portrait opened and Theo and Draco arrived, Blaise and Pansy stopped talking and all attention turned to Draco, who sneered at the younger students and said "What are you lot gawking at?" The students turned away and started whispering; most of them hadn't forgotten what happened on the train and all of them could see Draco's change in demeanor but none of them dared comment aloud and they returned to their studies while Draco and Theo took places on the couch.

"So, how was Ancient Runes?" Blaise asked innocently as Draco sat in between him and Theo, in the middle of the couch.

"Same old, same old," Draco replied back just as easily, though the tension between the two of them could have been cut with a knife. "Stupid Scarhead and that know-it-all mudblood got put in their place, but that's usual." Draco was lying through his teeth, and the Slytherins that knew of Draco's 'condition' knew it, but since no other Slytherins had been there at the time, no one could prove he hadn't done as he said.

"Right," Blaise said, figuring that it was probably the other way around. "Well," he continued, leaning over to Draco and whispering into his ear, "You have some work to do. Pansy hasn't finished her Potions assignment yet, and Goyle hasn't even started that assignment or his five-foot essay on magical snapdragons for Herbology. Hop to it, they're all due tomorrow."

"What! I-" Draco stopped himself, his exclamation almost garnering the attention of the others in the room. In a hurried whisper he continued, "I will not do their work for them! Let them get failing marks on their own! It's their fault for not-!"

"Shut up, mudblood," Blaise hissed, the tight anger working just as well in a whisper as in a shout. Draco's mouth clamped shut, so Draco settled for glaring at Blaise defiantly. "You _will_ do their and anyone else's work that we say you will." The magic swirled through Draco and settled in his hands. With one last annoyed glare that Blaise killed with an even icier glare in return, Draco took Pansy's Potions book and parchment from her smug, outstretched hand, and angrily opened it, and started working, absently taking Goyle's offered materials and setting them underneath Pansy's.

Satisfied that he was being listened to, Blaise settled into another conversation with Pansy, while Theo went off somewhere, taking Goyle with him.

Draco was halfway through Pansy's assignment when an idea of revenge occurred to him; what if he did their homework wrong? Draco was the best in their Potions class, aside from the mudblood, and it was obvious by their inattention that Blaise and Pansy were assuming he'd do it right, so wouldn't it be good revenge to do the assignments purposely wrong? Loving the idea, Draco went back and erased Pansy's right answers (_which were abysmally few; Pansy was pants at Potions_) and fixed his earlier answers, then continued that way, answering all the Potions questions they'd been given wrong, then going to Goyle's work and repeating the process, though making his answers significantly dumber than what he had for Pansy's. Getting the Herbology essay wrong was rather easy, seeing as Draco knew that particular flower quite well; Narcissa was fond of them.

The common room was nearly empty when Draco was finished, only a few seventh years lingering in a corner and Blaise and Pansy on the couch with him. Draco rolled up the parchment and set it on the book pile, then turned to Blaise, announcing his completion.

"Thanks, Draco," Pansy sniffed, taking her books and leaving for the girl's dorm. Draco ignored her and stood himself, taking Goyle's assignments and heading towards his dorm. Blaise quickly joined him and walked silently beside him. By the time the pair reached the door of the eighth year dorms, Draco was a bundle of nerves and Blaise was still coolly unaffected. Blaise entered the dorm first, sitting on his bed and getting ready for bed with the other eighth year boys sleeping around him.

"Goodnight, half-blood," Blaise threw over to Draco, who'd just settled into bed, but shot out of it in a panic at Blaise's words, quickly making sure everyone was asleep before he could make his heart stop racing. Feeling even more satisfied with his earlier actions, Draco settled into a dreamless sleep, looking forward to Potions the next day.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello, dear readers! I'm going to have to say something about what's coming up in response to some of the reviews I'm getting, that want Harry to hurry up and come save Draco. Sadly, that's not going to happen for awhile. In order for Harry to save him, he'd have to bond with him, which is something quite intimate, and at this point, Harry's only a little curious about Draco (doesn't really care about him) and Draco is in denial. Something a bit drastic is going to have to happen to tip Harry's curiosity into genuine worry strong enough for him to do something, and to get Draco out of denial. So, sorry to say, it has to get worse before it gets better.

And to lola, there won't be any sexual abuse in this story, though that's because I don't want to be _that_ mean to Draco. A Submissive Veela would only be able to do anything intimate with their mate, and doing anything with anyone else, even unwillingly, would be extremely painful. Draco's going to find this out the hard way at some point in the story, though it won't go far enough to be called sexual abuse, more like the threat of it (the more intimate the act, the more painful it'd be for Draco, so I won't be mean and make something sexual happen to him, it'd probably almost kill him).

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Draco was the first to wake the next morning. With a glance in Blaise's direction, just to make sure the other boy was still asleep, Draco slunk out of the room and to the bathroom. Today would be a great day. Draco very much looked forward to seeing Pansy's face when she was called out on her homework. It'd show her not to make him do her work for her; after all, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. With a satisfied smirk, Draco slipped into a shower stall and hummed quietly to himself.

"What's got you so happy, half-blood?" Theo's voice floated into the stall. Draco started, and stopped humming.

"Nothing, Theo," Draco responded, easily letting contempt slip into his voice.

Theo was quiet for a moment, then said, "Whatever you say, Draco."

The shower was silent until the usual noise of waking boys filled the room. Draco stalled as long as he could (_until a waiting Slytherin called for him to get out_), then dressed and walked into the common room. Other Slytherins of various years were milling about, some finishing assignments, others chatting or leaving for breakfast, but Draco didn't see the snakes he was looking for. Theo was still in the showers and Draco didn't know about the others. In the back of his mind, he was screaming at himself for actually waiting around for them (_Malfoys didn't wait, they were waited on_) and his reason for waiting wasn't something he could easily accept either, but he still found himself sitting on the couch, reading over his already immaculate Herbology essay, when Theo settled next to him on the couch, quickly followed by Pansy and Goyle, and, after awhile, Blaise.

Draco rolled up his parchment when Blaise arrived, ignoring the sickly sweet smile Pansy was sending him. "Thanks again for doing my work, _Draco_," Pansy purred, a bit of cruel amusement shining in her eyes. "You'll be a doll and do all of my work this year, won't you?"

Draco sputtered. All her work, and for the entire year no less! Draco didn't even take one of her classes, Advanced Transfigurations, and she expected him to even do her work from there? "I can't do all of it, I don't even-!"

"Draco," Blaise cut in, sending Draco a look that sent shivers down his spine. Gritting his teeth, Draco scowled at her.

"Fine," he hissed, glaring heartily as her smirk grew. The stupid cow knew he'd be forced into doing it whether she got his approval or not and was just asking to rub it in his face.

"Good," she said primly, then turned to Goyle. "Maybe you could also do Goyle's work too. Merlin knows he needs the marks." Goyle just stared as Draco fumed. How was he supposed to do all their work, as well as his own? He'd never have time to do anything else but schoolwork. Before he could protest, Blaise spoke up in agreement.

"That's a good idea, Pans. Maybe he could even do a few of me and Theo's assignments too."

Draco was speechless. How did they expect him to be able to do all of their work? He was only one person, where would he find time to actually do all the work? And that's not even worrying about the fact that each of them took at least one class he didn't take. How could he possibly do work year-round for classes he didn't attend?

Blaise took Draco's silence as acceptance and said jovially, "Great. All settled then. You'll do Pansy and Goyle's work all the time, and Theo and my work whenever we say you will. Got it?"

"But-!"

"_Got it_?"

Draco shivered as the cold magic sealed Blaise's words. How could this possibly work? "What about Quidditch practice? I can't practice if I'm always doing work." Despite Draco's drop in status and the Slytherins dislike for him, if they hated one thing more than him it was losing the House Cup to the Gryffindors, and they most certainly would lose it if they couldn't beat the Gryffindors in Quidditch. Harry Potter was still their seeker, and the only other seeker who could hold a candle to him was Draco so, at the team's reluctance, Draco was still Slytherin's seeker.

Blaise and the others shared a look. "When you have practice or are going to play you won't do any work. You'll just have to make up for lost time yourself," Blaise said.

"But that's too much! All of your work plus mine? I can't-!"

"_Draco_. _Shut_. _Up_. Say one more word about this besides 'Yes, Blaise' and you'll regret it," Blaise growled, taking advantage of the now empty common room to get inches from Draco's face so he could glare him down completely. Blaise's voice was ice cold and left no room for argument. Draco could only stare wide-eyed, as the magic eradicated any resistance he felt. Both the magic and his instincts refused to allow his righteous anger and all thoughts flew from his mind, being replaced with a now familiar fear.

Draco tried to speak but, much to his chagrin, no words were coming out. His mouth moved wordlessly until, finally, "Yes, Blaise," came out.

"You'll do the work without complaining, right?"

"...Y-Yes, Blaise."

"Good. Come on, let's go to breakfast," Blaise said, standing from the couch and moving towards the portrait entrance. Draco rose like a zombie, and followed, shell-shocked at his new workload. The others remained silent as they got up too, and their little group made their way to the Great Hall.

By the time they sat at the table, Draco was back to himself, though showing a restraint that he normally wouldn't. He was, once again, ignoring the feeling in his stomach, and tried his hardest not to see that Potter was paying a little more attention than normal to him. Every time he caught Harry, he'd send a sneer his way. Harry would just roll his eyes or return to his friends for a second, but his eyes would always return to Draco.

"Hey, what's Potter staring at you for?"

"What?" Draco turned to Blaise, shocked to be asked that. Apparently he wasn't the only one who noticed it. "I don't know," he replied, suddenly nervous. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason. You didn't say anything to the Golden Boy about..._that_, right?" Blaise said easily, belying the anger underneath his voice.

"N-No." (_Damn it, Malfoys don't stutter_)

"You sure you didn't let something slip yesterday? While you were at Ancient Runes? Something while you were talking?"

Draco's eyes widened a fraction and he quickly glanced to Theo, who returned his stare unabashed. "Nothing happened yesterday."

"Oh really? Did Theo lie to me, then?"

"He-No-I-" .

"Don't hurt yourself, Draco. Slow down."

Draco glowered at him but didn't react to the slight. "That depends on what he told you."

"He told me about your little encounter with the mudblood and Scarhead."

"How could he tell you about that if he wasn't there?"

"He didn't need to be. What Potter did told him enough," Blaise answered, then lowered his voice to hide what he was saying from the discreetly listening Slytherins. "You didn't let Potter find out, did you?"

Draco shook his head, sneering at some not-so-discreet fifth-years listening in, "I didn't say anything. He doesn't know."

"Better keep it that way too."

Draco looked away, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice so he could avoid replying. Seeing the conversation was over, the other Slytherins returned to their individual groups, whispering amongst themselves.

Draco ignored them, and looked up, and, sure enough, Harry was watching him while the Weasel and the mudblood were trying to get his attention. Harry whispered something to them and looked away from Draco. The strange feeling was stirring inside of him, and Draco ignored that too. No use dwelling on it, after all.

The rest of breakfast passed fairly quickly. They'd been late on the way there, so they didn't have long before it was time for their first class of the day, Charms.

Draco stood silently, waiting for the others to get up, then leading the way out of the Great Hall. Blaise followed without protest for once, and their group made their way to Professor Flitwiks class without incident. Some of the Slytherins who'd overheard some of Blaise and Draco's conversation threw taunts Draco's way, but they were ignored, and with Goyle hulking along with him, they let it go.

By the time Potions class rolled around, Draco was extremely dismayed. They had an assignment due by the end of the week in Charms, an essay for Transfiguration due in two days, and another essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts also due by the end of the week. Just that work load would have been an annoyance if he'd been doing it for just himself, but it was horrid to have to do it for at least three people. To possibly have to do it for five people was downright brutal, and they hadn't even went to all their classes that day. The thought of just filling in the wrong answers for Pansy's and Goyle's work made the load look less daunting, but he'd have no such luck with Blaise or Theo's work; both of them were at least good in all of their subjects so he'd actually have to try with theirs. A smile was almost brought to his lips as he remembered what he'd done to Pansy's work. It was small, but he'd gotten a little revenge.

The urge to smile died as they made it to the Potions classroom door. Just as Draco had thought before, the Professor that had replaced Severus was good, but not of Snape's quality. Professor Slughorn had returned to Hogwarts to teach Potions after Snape's death, and was fiddling with papers when Draco and the others arrived and took their seats. They weren't late, but they weren't early either, and the other students that were already there only spared them a glance.

"Hello, hello there, come on in," Slughorn was saying looking up from his papers at the arriving students. "Today, we'll be brewing a simple Pepper-Up Potion. As per usual, the pair who brews the best potion will get to pick a potion as a reward. So everyone come on up and hand me your assignments, yes, that's right, and hop to it. You all will be able to brew this potion without my assistance, I presume? I'd like to get started on these assignments, to make room for your next one you'll be given tonight on the properties and usage of the main ingredient of the Pepper-Up Potion to be due tomorrow. Well, time to start, children. Pair up and go ahead."

Draco almost couldn't hold back the groan that nearly escaped him. Two essay-like assignments due within two days? Draco was almost ready to tell Blaise off just so he wouldn't have to do so much work, but his sense of self-preservation had the idea shot down before he could even think it through. Sighing, Draco turned to his book, flipping to the Pepper-Up Potion's recipe. "Will you go and get the ingredients, Blaise?" Draco asked, turning, suddenly tired, to his (_hated_) partner.

"Sure," Blaise murmured, slipping out of his seat and heading towards the table that held the ingredients. Draco listlessly eyed the steps; he didn't need them, he could make this potion in his sleep, but he needed to look like he was doing something.

The two of them worked in silence, with Draco absently brewing the potion, wondering how he'd manage to get all the work done, and Blaise following along, preparing the ingredients without a word.

"Ah! Uh, Mrs. Parkinson. Could you, uhm, come here for a moment? I want to talk to you about your homework. It's very surprising coming from you," Slughorn's voice broke through the pair's silence as Draco looked up from his stirring to catch Pansy's eyes. She flashed a smug smile at him, and strutted up to Slughorn's desk, obviously thinking that he was going to commend her. Draco had to bite his cheek to keep from all out grinning; how surprised she'll be. Blaise gave him a long look that Draco chose to ignore, turning back to the Potion with a decidedly happier air.

Slughorn and Pansy spoke in whispers, until Pansy heard something she disliked and practically screeched, "What!" Her head whipped to Draco so quick he thought he neck would snap, and she shot him a glare so hard Draco had to bite his cheek and look away to keep from reacting. Luckily, her attention was immediately back on Slughorn, and her whispers became heated. Slughorn seemed to grow tired of her soon, because he shooed her away when she became particularly furious. She whipped around indignantly, shooting daggers at Draco the whole time. Draco tried his hardest to ignore her. He thought doing this would make him happy, and it had, until it was time to think about the consequences.

"What's going on?" Blaise asked, looking between Pansy and Draco. "What happened?"

Pansy only glared, gritting out "I'll tell you later," before turning back to her and Theo's potion in a huff. Draco's shoulders slumped.

"This doesn't look like it'll be too good for you," Blaise said ominously, going back to work. Draco resisted the urge to swallow as his skin started to prickle with fear. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea?

The pair to finish first was the mudblood and Weasel (_he probably just let her do all the work_) and Draco wasn't paying enough attention to them to see which potions they took. At that moment, he didn't really care, for he was trying hard not show that he was bothered by Pansy's glaring. Draco was so gone, trying to deal with her that he didn't notice when the class emptied until he was ordered to stand up by Blaise. He wordlessly followed Blaise out of the almost empty classroom, and was met, face-to-face with a raging mad Pansy.

"How _dare_ you, you filthy little mudblood!" Pansy shrieked the second they were alone and out of earshot of any prying ears. "I've been scolded because of you! Slughorn might even talk to my parents about my marks because of you! _How dare you_ do this to me!"

Draco flinched but remained silent.

"Wait a minute, Pans," Theo replied, laying a hand on Pansy's shoulder. "Tell us what he did before you fly into a rage."

"He did my homework wrong! Not just that, but he _fixed_ even the questions I'd done myself! _Every question_ was answered wrong! _Every_! _Question_! Not a one was right! I was already doing poorly in Potions, but this might have tipped the scale! What am going to do now?" Pansy ranted, getting herself more worked up with every word that spilled from her mouth. Draco was thoroughly interested in the floor tiles at that point, refusing to look at anyone of them.

"He did _what_? You little _bitch_! After I told you what would happen if you disobey me, you go and pull something like this?" Blaise fumed, turning on Draco in a second.

Draco kept his gaze on the floor as he mumbled a response.

"I can't hear you!"

"I wanted revenge!" Draco snapped, looking up and glaring heatedly at Blaise. "I wanted revenge for you ordering me around like I'm a house elf or something! I'm not a slave you can just take advantage of whenever you want to! If you're stupid enough to leave something as important as your grades to the person you've _enslaved_, then you deserve the failing marks you got!"

"..." _Smack_!

The sound of flesh hitting flesh rung through the empty hall. Draco staggered, bracing himself against the wall, holding his, now red, cheek, staring in wide-eyed shock at Pansy, who looked downright murderous. "A filthy half-blood like you has no room to judge! If we say you are a slave, then you _are _one, and we can take advantage of you all we want to! And don't you dare insult me, trash! We aren't treating you like a house elf, because even a house elf deserves more than a disgrace like you!" she hissed, practically crushing Draco under her rage. "You know what half-blood? I'm tired of keeping your secret. Don't be surprised when you come to the common room and more than just Blaise are giving you orders," she finished lowly, turning on her heel and storming to the Great Hall for lunch. Draco was too shell-shocked to even bother to protest.

Draco hadn't been hit since before he came into his Inheritance. He'd never felt surges of submission this strong before. The magic was running wild inside him, frantic because he'd upset someone who could possibly be his mate enough that she actually hit him. His magic was screaming at him to be more submissive to placate the possible mate, and the more he resisted the stronger the surges became. Pansy saying that she would revel his secret barely registered while his magic was going haywire inside him, and that, plus her harsh words, the slap, and the weight of the tasks ahead of him shattered his defenses entirely, and Draco found himself on the floor with his knees to his head, sobbing harder than he could ever remember doing. Draco normally wasn't one for crying, or for losing control, but this was all so much he couldn't help it.

"Draco."

Vaguely, Draco heard his name being called, but he was too lost to even realize who called him. That person called him multiple times, but Draco couldn't answer, he was much too far gone.

Thankfully, after a bit, the person gave up and he heard the sounds of people walking away. Draco was in no rush to follow them, and remained on the floor, all pride forgotten. For a second, Draco entertained the idea of finding his mate; after all, all these problems would go away if he just bonded with him, but even in his current state he wasn't quite ready to give in yet. He didn't need help, and certainly not his mate's help. An image of himself in his mate's arms flashed before him, filling him with a warm feeling that Draco swiftly squashed; no, he wouldn't give in yet.

It took him a bit, but he finally felt his magic calming enough that he felt like he could stand without falling over. Still trembling, he managed to get to his feet, and made the trek to the Great Hall; he had no idea how long he'd sat there, so he was just going to assume that the others were still at lunch. By the time he'd reached the Great Hall, his magic had steadied him, and he was back to his old self again.

Surprisingly, the Great Hall was still full when Draco arrived, and all eyes glued on him as he walked in. Having Draco go anywhere by himself was rare these days, and the vindictive people from several Houses took advantage of it to throw jeers and taunts at Draco, who just kept his head down, forcing himself to keep walking despite his legs desire to give out on him. He could barely stand this humiliation. Silently, he came and sat at his usual spot at the table, avoiding looking anyone in the eye.

"Had a good cry, mudblood?" Blaise taunted from his side. Draco's eyes widened at the blatant insult and the admission of his secret. Gingerly, Draco looked around the table, and was shocked to see that no one found the name shocking, they were instead whispering loudly about him and his Inheritance, sending him hostile looks, or snickering.

"B-Blaise?" Draco murmured, lost and confused at the other Slytherins reactions.

"All the Slytherins know how filthy you are now," Pansy sniffed from her spot across the table. "Get used to it, half-blood."

Draco could barely breathe as the gravity of the situation settled on his shoulders. Blaise's hand fell onto his shoulder, giving Draco a squeeze on the shoulder as he said, "Some of the others have heard about you doing schoolwork and they want in. Congratulations, Draco, you now have four seventh-year students to do work for as well. Their Astrology assignment is due tomorrow, so you'd better get busy."

"F-F-Four more people? Blaise, I can't-"

"That was an order, Draco. You're lucky I was nice enough to only take four for you. Every kid in Slytherin would have wanted you to do their work. Or do you not appreciate my kindness and I should go tell a few more people that you'll do their work too?"

"No!" Draco said, more desperate than angry. His little breakdown in the hall had sapped away his resistance, and all he could do was accept what was happening, and, hopefully, not make it worse, but when the House that hated him was in total control of him, Draco didn't think his chances looked good at all.


	6. Chapter 6

"That's what I thought," Blaise smirked, then turned back to his lunch. Draco could only stare at nothing in shock, until the magic stirred and his normal haughtiness rose to take the place of the hopeless feelings that had been bubbling up inside of him. The Slytherins that had been watching the exchange between he and Blaise seemed surprised when Draco's crestfallen face had slipped back into his Malfoy mask and Draco turned to them, sneering at them when they met his gaze. Confused, they turned away and sent questioning looks at Blaise, who purposefully ignored them.

Taking a bite out the fruit he'd picked up, Draco unconsciously found himself looking at the Gryffindor table. Harry was in a heated discussion with Ron and Hermione. The strange feeling was back and only seemed to become stronger when Harry's eyes flickered up and caught Draco's. The two stared at each other for a few long moments, but the moment was broken by Blaise playfully snatching the fruit out of his hand.

"What the hell, Blaise?" Draco said, turning from Harry and towards Blaise in an instant.

Blaise smirked, still playful, and toyed with the uneaten fruit in his hand. "Watcha lookin' at, Draco?" he asked lightly, though if one were to listen as Draco was, they'd hear the dark undertones in that question.

"None of your business, Zambini," Draco scoffed, reaching to take the fruit, and swallowing an indignant sound when Blaise discreetly moved the fruit just out of his reach. Refusing to look like a fool, Draco stopped trying to get the fruit and scowled at Blaise.

"Give it back," he demanded, confidence he didn't truly have spilling into his voice.

Blaise's eyes flickered to and from the Gryffindors so quickly that if Draco wasn't so sure he saw it, he'd of thought he'd imagined it; Blaise was aware of Harry's eyes on them. "Nope," Blaise said, unperturbed by Draco's sour looks. In a lower voice he said, "Whatever you're doing that's getting Potter's attention, stop it. "

"I'm not doing anything!" Draco hissed, reaching for another front and looking affronted when Blaise snatched the new fruit away to. To someone on the outside, it looked like Blaise was just playing, but Draco could easily tell that Blaise was angry. "Will you let me eat in peace?"

"No."

Draco angrily reached for another fruit and had to bit his cheek to stop a frustrated sound from escaping when Blaise took that one too. By now they'd attracted the attention of a few of the surrounding Slytherins who were all snickering to each other like they were enjoying a private joke. The magic refused to let him feel anything but irritated knowing the joke was at his expense. Blaise's damnable smirking wasn't helping Draco feel any better.

The playfulness dropped from Blaise's voice as he gave another restriction. "You aren't allowed to eat until I say you can."

"What? Why?" Draco asked as the magic settled around his throat and hands.

"For getting Potter's attention," Blaise said simply. Draco glanced to the Gryffindor table and saw that Harry had looked away and returned to his friends' conversation. "I don't want any nosy, noble Gryffindors poking their heads where they don't belong. Don't encourage it," Blaise finished, then turned back to his own meal and ignored Draco once more. The surrounding Slytherins continued to snicker at his expense and ate their own food in ways that subtly showed it off, teasing Draco. Draco just scowled at them and sat as if he'd finished eating and was waiting for the others to finish as well.

Draco was positive that Blaise had purposefully taken as long as he possibly could to finish eating when they finally left the Great Hall and headed to Herbology after nearly the entire Great Hall was empty. Pansy and Theo didn't seem to mind, what with Pansy still being angry with him and Theo's nonchalance. Goyle just followed dutifully behind them.

Madam Sprout wasn't happy when they finally arrived in the greenhouse late for her class and her mood just worsened when she glanced through the essays the five Slytherins turned in and saw that two of them were utter nonsense. Pansy shot Draco a glare that would have melted ice and Draco had to look away (_discreetly of course_) to keep from drawing more attention to their little group than what. they already had. Besides the homework, Herbology was uneventful, though Draco was quite dismayed to find that he had another assignment due by the end of the coming week to do for at least three people , seven if Sprout gave the seventh-years — who took the same classes as the eighth-years at different times — the same assignment. Luckily, he had a free period next before Ancient Runes, so he could at least start on the hellish amount of work he had.

"I'm going to the common room," Draco announced when Madam Sprout released them. Blaise raised an eyebrow at him.

"To do what?" Blaise asked. ("_As if you don't already know"_)

"My work," Draco replied, already turning towards the castle.

"Fine, but come here first."

Draco swallowed an aggravated sigh and turned back to Blaise. "What do you want?"

"When you do our work this time, you will do all of it _correctly. _No repeats of what you did with Pansy's work, no shortcuts, no half-assing it. Do it all before you do yours and do it _right_. Understand?"

The magic flared and then settled again. Draco ignored the feeling and nodded tightly at Blaise.

"Wait a minute, Draco," Pansy called when Draco turned towards the castle again.

"What is it, Parkinson?"

"Here," she said, handing over her bottomless bag that held her books and parchments. "All you need to do my work is in there. You'd better do my work first."

Draco scoffed but didn't say anything as he took the bag from Pansy. Goyle wordlessly handed his much lighter bag over as well, which Draco also took.

"I don't know where those seventh-years are now, but remember to do their Astrology work too. They outta have a lot more for you too," Blaise reminded him, then turned away from Draco. "We're going out."

"Blaise," Draco said to Blaise's back causing him to stop and look his way. "Who are they? The seventh-years? What are their names? What do they look like?" Draco had only just then realized that he'd agreed to do work for these students and he had no idea who the students were.

"I don't know all their names and I don't remember what they look like. If you find Terence Higgs, you'll find all four of them. Higgs is their leader of sorts," Blaise replied, motioning towards Pansy and Theo to follow him as he started to walk away from Draco.

"Wa-!" the magic clamped Draco's tongue between his teeth to stop Draco from calling out in a very not normal way to catch Blaise's attention. Draco cursed at the sudden pain and instead of trying again, he stalked forward and grabbed Blaise's shoulder. "Where do I look for Terrence?"

Blaise stopped and turned, nonchalantly shrugged Draco's hand away, glaring hard at Draco for having the gall to touch him, "I don't know, how about the dungeons? If the seventh-years have a free period right now too, you know that's where they'll be," Blaise answered, voice hard.

"What if they aren't free now?"

"Aren't you supposed to be the smart one, Draco?" Blaise sneered in answer, becoming quite annoyed with Draco's questions. "You either figure out which class they're in now and go get their things from there or wait for classes to be over."

"But I can't just go barraging into a class without an excuse! Classes won't be over until tonight, when am I going to do their work if I don't see them until tonight?" Draco asked, incredulous, and ignoring Blaise's insult. Draco could feel his magic tingling in reaction to Blaise's annoyance, and Pansy's still stirring anger at him, and Theo's impatience were starting to affect him too; he wouldn't be able to keep talking much longer.

"That's not my problem, now is it?" Blaise finished, turning with finality away from Draco and leaving, being quickly flanked by the other three Slytherins and leaving Draco to himself.

With a deep sigh, Draco turned to the common room, glad that they had been relatively alone in the courtyard, with the only others being lingering students that weren't giving the Slytherins any attention. Draco used their inattention to place Pansy's and Goyle's bags into his own so he would be less conspicuous and headed down to the dungeons wondering who's work he'd do first.

When he reached the dungeons, they were nearly empty, as far as he could tell, with the majority of the other students still in class. Draco took a seat on the couch, unpacked his bag as well as Pansy's and Goyle's, and reorganized everything into the order he'd do them: his work first, then Pansy's, and Goyle's. He unrolled a parchment and opened his Potions book to the Pepper-Up Potion, and would have started to write if his hand hadn't suddenly started to burn when he put the quill to the paper.

"What?" Draco murmured aloud, wondering why that had happened, then remembered Blaise's restriction. Groaning softly, he repacked his work and took out Pansy's, and set to work.

Draco couldn't get much done in the small amount of free time he had, in the end, only managing to finish Pansy and Goyle's Potions work, Pansy's Transfiguration essay and half of Goyle's essay, and finding out, much to his dismay that Blaise had been too specific (_or too broad_) and the magic refused to allow him to do any of his work until he had done _all_ of their work. How was he ever going to do his work if couldn't even start until he finished all of their work, even work that wasn't due any time soon? He realized with horror that if he wanted to get his Potions homework done tonight he'd have to finish at least nine other assignments before he could even start. And that number would just skyrocket if the seventh-years were given as much homework as they were.

All of this was compounded by the growing problem that was Draco's hunger, seeing as Blaise hadn't allowed him to eat lunch so he hadn't eaten anything that day since breakfast. A thought that had Draco fearing for his life entered his mind then; what if Blaise didn't allow him to eat at all? Blaise, no, not just Blaise, the whole of Slytherin House had the power to kill him in their hands and he couldn't stop them. Of course, there was one way to stop them...that Draco refused to even entertain at that moment, after all, surely Blaise and the other Slytherins would realize that if they killed him they'd be shipped off to Azkaban, right?

Another thought occurred to Draco then. Would the Ministry punish them for killing him? It was true that most of Slytherin House had been on the Dark Side of the war and the Ministry certainly wasn't happy with anyone of them at the moment, but out of all the snakes, the Ministry had it out for the Death Eaters that had been in the Dark Lord's inner ranks and their family members. The Malfoys had been one of Voldemort's most trusted families, and that hadn't been forgotten by the Ministry at all. If the Ministry didn't care enough to even tell the Headmistress about Draco being a Submissive Veela for his protection, which could be considered signing his death warrant, who was to say they would care enough to arrest the one who killed him? A little money would go far in getting any Slytherin out of jail time; if anything, the Ministry might praise them for getting rid of a 'major' Death Eater like him who'd just barely stayed out of Azkaban and most likely narrowly avoided a Dementor's Kiss. Draco's line of thought had him near shivering in fear and he was glad for the distraction of students milling into the common room, signifying that his free period was over.

Draco started gathering the books, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a large stack of books was suddenly slammed onto the table where his hand had just been. The force of the stack hitting the table caused the table to shake, and Draco's seeker reflexes were the only thing that kept Pansy's newly written essay from being dosed in ink and having to be totally rewritten. Draco looked up to mouth off at the bastard who'd nearly cost him an hour's worth of work and was met with a nasty smirk from a brown-haired boy that looked to be a year younger than him and was surrounded by three other boys.

"Hello mudblood," the brown-haired boy said leaving the stack of supplies on the table. "My name's Terence and you'll be doing my and my friends assignments from now on, starting with this."

Draco glared at the boy, still annoyed about almost losing his work, as well as recognizing him vaguely as the one who'd hexed him on the train, and looked at the stack with the new-found knowledge that it was work he had to complete. Three more classes he had work for: Potions, History of Magic, and (_oh Merlin_) Muggle Studies as well as the Astrology work. Three more stacks were dropped onto the table as Terence finished his introduction and Draco was very disheartened to see that each of the three other boys flanking Terence had assignments for Potions and History of Magic as well, with one having another Muggle Studies assignment, another having a Divination assignment, and the other having a Herbology assignment. How much work was that? Draco didn't even try to figure out how much more work this was added on to the at least nine other assignments he already had, including his own work that would be pushed to the back of all this. All hopes of even touching his Potions homework tonight vanished and he wondered when he would ever be able to do any of his work if the pile just continued to increase everyday with new assignments that had to be finished before his were. Draco refused to even consider how he would do the work for Divination, Muggle Studies, and Astrology, all three classes that he didn't take.

"Better get busy, mudblood," Terrence sneered, "the Potions assignment is due tomorrow, the History of Magic essay is due in three days, and the other stuff is due by the end of the week. You'd better do all of it on time." he finished, then walked away with his snickering friends following him.

Draco was wondering whether or not he should even go to dinner that night while he packed the books into his bag and set off for Ancient Runes. It would be such a waste of time if he went and Blaise didn't let him eat anything. Weighing the deadlines in his head, Draco decided that he didn't have time to waste, that it would be better not to risk it and just work through dinner.

Potter and Granger weren't outside the door when he got to Professor Babbling's classroom and hadn't arrived yet when he took his seat. Draco was glad for it; he didn't feel like being questioned by or even seeing Harry at the moment. A part of him that he was working hard to ignore was contemplating giving in to his Veela and going after Harry to get him to bond with him just so that the fear that had settled into his heart at the realization that his life was out of his hands would go away but putting his life into the hands of the boy who hated him and who he'd practically tortured for seven years didn't seem like a much better idea to him. Not to mention the fact that he would probably be rejected too often before he even found out how to get around Blaise's restriction and tell Harry about his being a Veela. Draco very much doubted that Harry would want anything to do with him, especially not romantically, if he didn't have a good reason to, and if Draco couldn't give his reason, he'd have just as much a chance with Harry as he would have had there been nothing wrong with him and he just wanted a date. Draco didn't know how good or bad those chances were but he had no desire to gamble with his life on the line so he continued ignoring the part of him that desperately wanted to complete the first part of the bonding and accept who his mate was.

Draco was cut from his thoughts by Professor Babbling starting the class. Stuffing the thoughts away and ignoring the familiar feeling in his stomach, Draco slid into work mode and forgot everything as he became immersed in the lesson.

Theo was waiting for him like before when he exited Ancient Runes class (_with another assignment that Draco feared he'd never be able to do_). Theo wordlessly slid off the wall he was leaning on and walked to Draco's side, and followed him down to the dungeons. Draco was slightly unnerved by Theo's silence but said nothing, instead wondering how long he'd have to stay awake to finish the work.

Blaise, Pansy, and Goyle were on the couch when he and Theo arrived in the common room, Blaise nodding absently while Pansy chatted at him and Goyle staring into space. Blaise's attention quickly left Pansy when he noticed the new arrivals and he stood and looked to Theo. "Was there any trouble?" Blaise asked.

"None that I could see," Theo replied.

"Good," Blaise said, then turned towards Draco. "You hungry?" he practically sneered.

Draco was suddenly reminded that he hadn't eaten since breakfast, but the look on Blaise's face didn't look promising. "No."

Blaise's expression didn't change, though Pansy looked shocked. "You haven't eaten all day!" she exclaimed. "How can you not be hungry?"

"I'm just not. I'm staying here during dinner."

Blaise just continued to stare. "Whatever you say," he said finally, then headed towards the portrait. Pansy cast Blaise a disbelieving look.

"Blaise!" she tried but was cut off.

"Look, Pans, if he doesn't want to eat he doesn't have to. He can wait until tomorrow. He wants to stay here so let him."

Draco still wasn't convinced that Blaise would have allowed him to eat if he went with them, so he stayed quiet.

Blaise gave up on talking to Pansy and just headed for the portrait again. Pansy had been in the middle of a sentence when Blaise took off and she stomped angrily after him when she realized he had left and not actually listened to her. Goyle followed dutifully after Blaise, not even sparing Draco a second glance, while Theo lingered.

"You sure you don't want anything?" he asked when the portrait closed after Goyle. "Pansy was right, there's no way you wouldn't be hungry when you haven't eaten since breakfast."

Draco glowered at him. "Why do you care?" he asked bitterly.

"I don't, but if I feed you when you're obviously too scared of Blaise to get your own food, then you'll owe me. If I remember correctly, anyone can give or replace orders, so it might be to my advantage if I cancel out Blaise's order about your eating," Theo raised an eyebrow at Draco's skepticism. "That is, unless you don't want me to and you can eat whenever Blaise says you can. I thought this would be mutually beneficial but if you don't want my help..."

Draco was fighting an inner losing battle. His common sense was telling him not to accept any kind of deal with a Slytherin that he hadn't made himself, but his stomach was telling him to get over his caution and agree. After all, relying on another person for something as base and necessary as food didn't seem the least bit appealing. With a sigh, Draco nodded and ignored Theo's answering smirk.

"Wait here a sec," Theo said and quickly disappeared up into the dorms. Draco was wondering what Theo was playing at when Theo returned with a chocolate frog in his hand. "Eat this," he ordered. "Eat whatever you want, whenever you want to."

Draco had to stop himself from smiling when some of the magic lifted from his hands and throat and he took and ate the chocolate frog with forced patience, when he wanted nothing more than to scarf it down in a very un-Malfoyish way.

"I wouldn't go around being public about this, Draco," Theo warned as he started to leave. "Blaise won't be happy if he finds out I've given you this freedom, and he won't be able to take his anger out on me. The whole of Slytherin House knows about Blaise's order so I wouldn't eat without his permission if there are any snakes around if I were you," Theo finished, then vanished out of the empty common room, leaving Draco to himself.

Draco only spared another moment of thought to Theo and his actions before he returned to his stack of work; he didn't have the time to be worrying about Theo when he had so much work to do. Suddenly feeling tired, he returned to Goyle's essay and buried himself in work.

By the time the common room started filling again Draco has gotten through four more assignments: Goyle's essay, and three out of four of the Astrology assignments. Draco hoped the seventh-years were smart enough to change his writing style to theirs, since Draco had no idea how any of them wrote and turning in an assignment that was totally different from what you usually turned in was a sure way to be caught cheating. Blaise and the others arrived soon after the first students trickled in, and joined Draco on the couch. Draco, then, had an audience as he tried to concentrate on the work with Blaise, Pansy, and Theo, as well as the other students who were littered about the common room, talked around him. The distraction was too much for him and, in the end, when everyone was going to bed, he'd only managed to finish two more assignments: the fourth Astrology assignment and the Herbology assignment. By the time the common room started to empty with students heading to bed, Draco was wondering how to convince his teachers to give him extra time on his work without breaking Blaise's restriction.

Realizing that he'd get no sleep if he tried to finish everything that night, Draco rolled up the parchment he'd been working on, packed everything, and retired to his bed. He slept fitfully that night, his worries from the day following him to bed, and triggering another nightmare he'd hoped he'd be too tired to dream.

A strange thing happened in his dream this time; a light that he'd never seen in his nightmares before appeared, and when he tried to reach for it, it disappeared.


	7. Chapter 7

He awoke the next morning feeling as if trying to sleep instead of staying up all night working had been a horrid waste of time. He didn't feel in the least bit refreshed and even a long hot shower hadn't been able to change that. Instead, he cast a glamor on himself to hide the tell-tale signs that he hadn't slept and tried to figure out how he'd get Blaise to give permission for him to eat breakfast.

Blaise and the others were waiting for him when he left the bathrooms, but he couldn't find the energy to deal with Blaise's taunts that morning. Wordlessly, he handed Pansy and Goyle their finished work, ignoring Pansy's snide "And it better be right this time, mudblood," and, instead, throwing his bag over his shoulder and sauntering towards the door, throwing a "You guys coming?" over to his shocked friends. Draco was pleasantly surprised when they actually did come and didn't seem angry at his taking the lead, though he knew better than to push it.

Breakfast was a miserable affair for Draco, since Blaise refused to allow him to eat unless he begged Blaise, and Draco's Malfoy pride, though much weaker than it had once been, was still strong enough for him to take offense at even the suggestion of _begging, _especially when he was surrounded by a group of vindictive children with too much power in their hands. And so he hadn't ate at breakfast.

Or lunch. Or dinner.

Turns out that Blaise wasn't going to let him eat at all until he begged. Even with his stomach growling loud enough for him to need to cast a silencing charm on it, Draco still refused, instead busying himself with the worryingly increasing amount of work. The only time he stopped working was when Theo appeared again after everyone was asleep offering food nicked from the kitchen.

Draco worked until he could barely keep his eyes open (_and still hadn't gotten to his homework_), then finally gave up and gave sleep another try, to no avail.

Draco woke up the next day just as tired, if not more so, as he'd been the previous morning. Draco just sighed and cast a glamor again, hoping he'd stay awake enough to keep it up.

Draco's days fell into a routine after that; waking up from a sleepless night, casting glamors to hide the signs (_he was rather proud at how good he was getting at these things_), not eating during the day at all, working all the time he wasn't in class, finishing less and less, accepting and devouring the small amount of food Theo stole for him at night, and failing at trying to sleep. Eventually he gave up on trying to sleep at all, and just worked all night. It wasn't until about two weeks into his routine did he realize this was terrible for him, and that it was too late to fix.

He'd just finished another essay for some class he couldn't even remember anymore, when he was uncharacteristically joined by Blaise and Pansy at some ungodly hour in the morning. The pair sat on either side of him and just silently watched him work for awhile, then Pansy reached out and took the essay he'd finished. "Hey, Draco, what's this?" she asked, practically shoving the parchment in front of his face. Draco didn't even have the energy to be annoyed at this point and simply looked at the parchment. He could barely see it as his eyes seemed to be crossing from tiredness, but he managed out an "An essay," and returned to his work.

Pansy scoffed. "Yes, I can see _that_, mudblood. Who's essay is this, and for what class?"

Draco sighed and looked at it again. Who's work was this for? Draco couldn't remember, all the assignments were blurring together at this point. Squinting, he tried to read the parchment, hoping the contents would remind him, but was surprised to see that the contents were complete and utter nonsense. Words that may or may not even be words were scribbled haphazardly on the paper; there didn't seem to even be any coherent sentences, let alone coherent thoughts that could be answers. "Um..." Draco weakly swatted the parchment away and looked to his finished pile, which Blaise was absentmindedly thumbing through. He picked up another assignment, scanned it, and, once again, it was nonsense. Biting back a whimper, he went through the other assignments, not noticing Blaise taking and reading one of the assignments and Pansy reading the one she already had. To his horror, the assignments he'd spent at least the last evening and night working on, were all trash. The part of him that was glad these assignments weren't his was silenced when he realized that, chances are he'd have to do all these again, and a terrible thought occurred to him then, how long had he been doing this?, what if he'd been scribbling nonsense long before these assignments? He'd stopped reading them at some point he couldn't remember— when had he stopped?—so what if he'd been doing this since then? _Oh Merlin, they're going to kill me, what do I do, what do I say, oh Merlin, no, no, no, no, no-_

"Draco!" someone snapped and Draco nearly jumped out of skin, looking wildly for who called him. Pansy was staring strangely at him, while Blaise was going through his work. "What is this?" Pansy asked again, sounding much more annoyed this time.

"Um...An essay," Draco tried again, unable to keep Pansy's eye.

"This is a bunch of nonsense scribbles," Pansy clarified. "This isn't even remotely close to an essay."

"...I-I know."

"All of these assignments are scribbles," Blaise put in, showing them to Pansy who stared closely at one of the longer parchments.

"Is this supposed to be my Transfiguration essay?" she gasped, snatching it from Blaise and combing the paper for the odd word here or there that was related to Transfiguration. "This is!" she shrieked, speed-reading the rest, looking for some sense and finding none. "How am I supposed to turn this in?" She snatched another paper from Blaise, threw it away carelessly (_Draco flinched_), and searched frantically until she found another long parchment and almost screamed. "My Herbology assignment! These are due today, Draco! What am I going to do with this?"

Draco flinched again. He'd been telling himself all week that he wasn't tired enough for his lack of sleep to affect his work, but apparently he'd been lying. He inwardly cringed at the thought of being so tired that the magic let him do all this work wrong. Surely he wasn't that out of it. Blearily, he tried to remember something that happened that week, and got nothing. Everything was a huge blur of work and hunger. Biting his cheek nervously, he tried to remember what the Herbology assignment Pansy was upset over was, and surprise, surprise, he got nothing. There was no way he could have done the assignment if he couldn't even remember what it was.

"Didn't we order you to do all our work correctly?" Blaise asked, his voice controlled.

"The magic doesn't uphold orders that are physically impossible," Draco murmured, staring at his lap.

"What do you mean 'physically impossible'?" Pansy cried, still pissed about her work.

"Say you gave me the order to fly without using magic or leaving this room. The order would be immediately negated because it's physically impossible for me to do that."

"It's nowhere near impossible for you to do our work," Blaise replied with narrow eyes.

"It is when I haven't slept or rested in two weeks," Draco whispered, dropping the glamor he'd learned to control so well. Judging by Blaise's silence and Pansy's gasp, he looked terrible. Draco wouldn't know, he pointedly avoided mirrors specifically so he wouldn't see how terrible he looked.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Blaise asked.

"It doesn't help. It's a waste of time."

The pair were silent for awhile, having a silent conversation over Draco's downcast head.

"Well do something about it. Don't think you'll get away with this just because you're unwell. Those seventh-years aren't Hufflepuffs, they won't just say 'that's okay' when you give them their work and it's all nonsense. You better find a way to get some sleep. And you sure you're not ready to beg me? You're getting thin, half-blood." Blaise said, raising from the couch as he spoke, motioning for a silently fuming Pansy to follow him when he returned back to the dorms, pausing by the stairs to hear Draco's answer.

For a second Draco was fully intending to give Blaise what he wanted. Theo's midnight snacks were the only thing keeping him from starving, but they certainly were no substitute for three square meals a day. Then, the magic kicked Draco's pride into gear and almost haughtily he said, "Not on your life, Zambini." Blaise just shrugged and headed to the dorm, leaving Draco wondering how he was going to stay awake without sleeping.

Immediately, his thoughts went to potions. There were many potions that one could take in his situation, but after narrowing down the choices to simple potions that could be brewed or gotten without any suspicions arising he was left with Dreamless Sleep and Pepper Up Potions. The Dreamless Sleep would probably be best in the long run, but Draco was worrying too much about the piles of work that wouldn't be worked on if he wasted time sleeping, so Draco settled on the Pepper Ups, which provided only a temporary solution but gave him more work time.

Putting down his quill and sadly eying all the wasted time on his make-shift desk, he left the common room and stealthily made his way to the Potions classroom, which Draco knew to be left unlocked by that fool Slughorn. He carefully opened the door, rolling his eyes at Slughorn's snores that assaulted his ears the second he stepped inside, and crept in, going to Slughorn's (_unwarded, honestly that man is incompetent compared to Sev_) potions ingredients and snatching small handfuls of them, then shrinking them to fit in his pocket. The ingredients were common enough that Slughorn most likely wouldn't even notice he was missing some of his supplies of them, which Draco glad for.

Just as quietly as he came, he left the Potions room, sneaking through the halls with only adrenaline keeping him from being clumsy and attracting Filch's attention (_luckily, he'd become very good at sneaking since 6__th__ year, not that he was proud of it, though_), and managed to return to the common room without making a sound.

He barely paused to cast a charm on his work area to make it clean itself up and went on his way to his dorm, thinking of how ludicrous it was that he had to sneak into his own room, but did so anyway.

Draco knelt in front of his trunk, unlocking it, and pulled out a shrunken cauldron and some shrunken vials and containers, which he pocketed, and closed and relocked his trunk. He just about tiptoed out of the room, thanking Merlin Blaise hadn't woken when he'd entered, and hurried to the now clear table, and set out his ingredients, unshrinking them as he went along. He had no idea how long he had before the other students would wake up for breakfast, but he had no intentions of being caught by anyone, and thus, had no time to waste.

After the potion was brewed, Draco took a sip, then shuddered as the potion took immediate effect, and all his exhaustion was gone, through his ears were now steaming annoyingly and would continue to do so for at least an hour. He tried and failed a few times to stop the steaming, then, he gave up and covered it with his usual glamor. Turning to his cauldron, he filled the vials and containers with the rest of the potion, then quickly shrunk everything that was left and returned it all to his trunk, which was a lot easier to do now that he could actually see straight.

Feeling the need to relax, now that he was feeling better and there was no way he could get any work done when, after a quick Tempus charm, he saw that the other students would be waking up in less than an hour, Draco headed to the showers, bathed, and sat under the spray until he was kicked out by an irate student.

"Hey mudblood, where's our work?"

Draco fought the urge to cringe as he turned to Terrence and his group who were coming down the stairs to join him in the common room. He slung his bag from his shoulder and handed out the work, sneering when they snatched the parchments from him.

Terrence just glared at him until he stopped, smirking in victory when Draco couldn't keep his eye anymore and looked away scowling. "Thanks, _Malfoy_," Terrence spat. Then left the common room, his lackeys trailing behind him. (_"Ungrateful bastard."_) 

Returning the bag to his shoulder, he took a seat on the couch, waiting for Blaise and the others, who joined him shortly after he sat down. Blaise gave him a once-over, then raised an eyebrow in question. Draco just gave him a haughty look in return, to which Blaise snorted, then motioned for Draco to follow him. Draco did, ignoring Pansy's curious looks, Goyle's blank staring, and Theo's cool gaze.

When they arrived at the Great Hall it was only half-full. Surprisingly, the Golden Trio was there already, Hermione and Ron talking animatedly, while Harry halfheartedly listened. When they walked in, Harry's eyes immediately snapped from his friends to Draco's, who almost started at suddenly gaining Harry's attention. The strange feeling was back and Draco had half-a-mind to give in, until Harry noticed him and Draco unwillingly sneered, causing Harry to glare and pointedly look away. Feeling snubbed, Draco looked away too and lead the way to the Slytherin table, sitting with an indignant flourish.

The majority of the rest of the day was uneventful, excluding the berating Pansy gave him after she had to tell both Miss McGonagall and Madam Sprout she'd be turning in homework late. Draco practically cowered the entire time, the magic pulling apologies from him left and right. Of course, Pansy had waited until they'd been in the common room to start but hadn't bothered with having the common room cleared, so almost a quarter of Slytherin House had watched and every snake knew about it by the end of the day.

What with all the snickering and malicious teasing that floated around him for the rest of the day, he should have expected things would get worse.

He'd been with Blaise and the others when Terrence came up to them, he and his lackeys red-faced with anger. It'd only taken a moment for Draco to remember what he'd done, and when he did, he'd paled. In desperation, he'd looked to Blaise, only to see from Blaise's closed off features he was on his own. Swallowing, he'd tried to face the angry seventh-years and watched Terrence rage as Pansy had done earlier, going on about the work and how he'd gotten a month's worth of detentions for turning in so much of absolute nonsense.

"You little bastard!" Terrence had roared, drawing his wand at Draco, who promptly cringed away. "You'll pay for this, Malfoy. Starting today, we're going to give you hell." Before Draco could react Terrence threw an anger fueled Stinging Hex and Draco found himself hitting the wall with the force of the spell. Terrence and his friends, then proceeded to threw a few more jinxes and hexes at Draco, being as mean as the could while avoiding spells that'd get Draco sent to the hospital wing. The slamming against the wall had stunned him, leaving him open to the attacks. Blaise, Pansy, Theo and Goyle were watching him, Pansy almost smug, Blaise, Theo, and Goyle blank, until Blaise deemed it enough and made the seventh-years stop. Draco was a mess by then, curled up on the floor, scratching wildly from an Itching Hex, and trembling visibly with the force of his magic going haywire. When the seventh-years left, Blaise had tried to help Draco stand, only to find he'd been Jelly Legs Jinxed and Leg Locker Cursed, both harmless spells that'd wear off soon, but meant Draco would have to be carried to the dungeons. Blaise had gotten Goyle to do so, and the group had returned to the dungeons silently, except for the sounds of Draco's stifled sobs.

It'd only gotten worse from there for Draco. After Draco was seen in that state being carried into the almost full common room, any bit of respect the other Slytherins might have held for him vanished and he was treated as mercilessly as they might have treated a young Hufflepuff or worse. Jeers and taunts followed everywhere he went in Slytherin House, and outside it whenever there was an opportunity. Terrence became a daily nuisance, hexing Draco whenever he could get away with it, normally in front of a very entertained audience. Draco spent more time with his magic going haywire than without, and even then he was so on edge even the slightest of things could set him off. To top it off, along with the added burden of avoiding the majority of his house (_and school; Draco still wasn't the most popular wizard at Hogwarts_), Draco was still expected to do other people's work, which was picking up now that they were comfortably into the first half of the year, still couldn't sleep— the PepperUps (_which not only did he have to find time to brew, but were starting to lose their effectiveness, causing him to have to take more and more_) were the only thing keeping him awake at all— and still hadn't had a decent meal in a while (_though Theo had taken to bringing Draco a bit more food these days_). The start of Quidditch season, and as such, frequent, hard Quidditch practices didn't help either.

Of course, all this was taking major tolls on Draco's health. Draco couldn't stand going near anything that might show his reflection before he put his glamor on, for fear of seeing something horrible. He could barely stand these days and drifting off in class was becoming common on the days his PepperUp dosages needed upping. He'd been held back in classes a number of times by worried teachers, all asking in that quiet, worried voice if something was wrong, and every time, no matter how much he'd wished to tell them the truth, he always replied with "Nothing, Professor." and been left alone. Blaise's normalcy restriction was saving him face most of time, making him appear normal to anyone who didn't look hard (_almost everyone_), but Draco knew he wouldn't be able to take this for the rest of the year.

The more times Draco did his best to dodge hexes (_he'd been forbidden to shield himself in any way_), the more Draco toyed with the idea of going out and finding his mate just to see him. The more nights Draco lost buried in other people's work, the more Draco imagined what it'd be like to bond with his mate. The more Draco drunk PepperUps like water just to keep from dropping in the hall from exhaustion, the more Draco wondered if his mate could change. The more times Draco nearly fell from the sky trying to ride a broom on a permanently empty stomach, the more Draco liked the idea of spending time with his mate, something Draco never thought he would ever want. The more Draco's grades dropped from Os and Es to Ds and Ts due to never turning in homework and being too out of it to pay attention, the more Draco warmed up to the idea of his enemy being his mate.

By the time Draco's life had hit rock bottom, Draco had no problem at all with having Harry Potter as a mate.

When he'd given up working for the night some time after this revelation, he'd decided he'd try and actually sleep; the common room was empty except for him (_to be expected, it had to be around 2 in the morning_), which meant it was a perfect time to try. Putting down the quill (_his hands ached terribly these days, but not enough for him to do something about it_) he brought his legs up onto the couch and stretched out, burying his face into a pillow and drifting to sleep.

The dream started predictably, which him in the Malfoy Manor, watching in silent horror as the Dark Lord fed a pair of muggle captives that'd lost their purpose to Nagini. Every scream, every cry, every plea from the dying pair, as well as all the other captives Draco had seen be swallowed or killed filled his dream then, the dank, Malfoy Manor fading into a nothingness that amplified the soul wrenching sounds. Draco tried to cover his ears to block the sounds, and upon finding it pointless, his own screams joined the chorus, engulfing him. But then something different happened: a vaguely familiar light appeared in his darkness, and at its appearance, the sounds stopped, and he wasn't in nothingness anymore, but by the lake at Hogwarts. The light was still there, and Draco suddenly remembered why it was familiar, it'd been there the last time he'd dreamed. Hesitant, Draco reached for the light again, fully expecting it to disappear, but was pleasantly surprised when it not only didn't disappear, but started to change underneath his fingers. Draco watched in fascination as the light turned into his mate, Harry Potter standing there in front of the lake with open arms, smiling at Draco. Draco only stared, in shock, until he realized Harry was waiting for him, and took a few ginger steps forward until he was in Harry's arms. The feeling was incredible. After nothing but hurt for so long, Draco practically melted into Harry's embrace. Draco couldn't remember what happened after that, but for the first time in months, maybe even since the war ended, Draco slept peacefully.

XxXxXxXxX

A/N: I'm so very sorry for the late update, but schoolwork was getting in my way of writing. That, as well as the fact that this chapter was exceptionally difficult to write for some reason (_I really don't like most of this chapter actually_), but now that it's over, I hope I can update without a long pause like that again. Thank you, lovely readers for being patient.

And, this is a turning point for Draco, as you've just read. He's in bad enough shape to finally give in and accept Harry as his mate, which is a major step towards the bonding. Of course, Harry might not be as eager, he most likely knows nothing about this at all, so that's something else, but I might have that almost resolved real soon, so Draco will be helped in the, hopefully, near future.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up quietly, and not screaming or dripping in sweat. He sighed in pleasure as he sat up, the warm remnants of his dream adding to the surreal experience of an almost normal morning (_where he woke up was the only abnormality; Draco missed his own bed_). Of course, good things didn't last long for him, and before Draco could clear the sleepy haze from his mind a quick Stinging Hex to his side jolted him awake.

Draco looked around for his attacker, a slew of sharp words he'd long since lost the courage to say ready to fall but quickly shut his mouth when Blaise glowered at him, daring Draco to speak. Draco blushed in indignation and looked away immediately. Blaise just smirked, then went off to get ready for the day. Draco soon followed him, refusing to make eye contact with him or any of the other waking boys he passed.

XxXxXxXxX

Harry Potter was in a dilemma. For the past few months he'd been watching Draco Malfoy discreetly (_at least, he thought he was being discreet_) and he was sure that something was wrong with him, but Harry had no idea what. Draco's strange reaction in the hall that day had sparked his curiosity and as time went on, and Draco started to act even stranger, Harry's curiosity was peaked.

When he'd asked Hermione and Ron before, they'd just brushed him off. Ron had wondered whether or not he'd be like he was in sixth year again and Hermione had acknowledged that something was off, but, then again, it probably wasn't something Draco wanted or needed help with, even if it was of any concern to them. Harry had tried to take what Hermione said to heart but something was nagging him, and he spent more and more time watching Draco anyway.

He'd noticed several little odd things during his watching (_stalking_), the most obvious being Draco's lack of appetite. Harry barely ever saw Draco eat anymore, and though Draco had never been big by any means, he was starting to look a bit scrawny. After the second week straight of watching Draco play with, but never eat, his food, Harry had half a mind to just go over ask what was wrong, but he couldn't, and wouldn't, for obvious reasons. Harry's hero complex and over curious nature refused to let him just let this go; if Hermione and Ron wouldn't help him figure out what was happening, he'd just do it on his own.

Just like every other day recently, Harry found himself seated across from Hermione and next to Ron in the Great Hall for breakfast, halfheartedly listening to Hermione arguing with Ron about something or other, and watching Draco Malfoy intently when he thought he could get away with it.

Draco was sneering at what looked to be Pansy— though Harry couldn't really tell from his position— and looked much like the snotty prat that Harry remembered from their early years. Harry would have just snorted and looked away if right at the moment he was turning he hadn't seen Draco flinch. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the sneer slid off Draco's face and be replaced with a mixture of fear and sadness. Harry turned back to watching Draco fully, only to quickly look away with a scowl; so fast, he wondered if his eyes played tricks on him, seeing as that strange expression Harry had seen was gone, replaced with a glare as Draco caught Harry looking at him.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked, adding a helping of hash browns to his mostly decimated breakfast. Hermione was watching Harry, looking a bit concerned. "Whatcha lookin' at the snakes for?" Ron mumbled through one of the hash browns he'd eaten.

Glancing at the Slytherin table one more time, to see Draco back to chatting, Harry replied "...Nothing. No reason, I mean."

Hermione frowned. "Are you sure Harry? You've been quite distracted lately. Is something bothering you?"

"...Well, Malfoy is—"

"Not this again!" Ron moaned, dropping the food he'd been about to eat back on the plate. "Don't tell me you're still going on about that ferret-face!"

"Yes, Ron," Harry huffed, feeling offended for some reason. "I am. I'm telling you there's something wrong with him. He's acting strange and there should be no reason for that. Voldemort is gone and Malfoy's not in danger or anything, so why is he acting so weird?"

"Harry, there's nothing weird about how Malfoy's acting," Hermione said, "He seems fine in all the classes we take with him; what makes you think he's being strange?"

"He's not being obvious about it, but you were there for one of the times. Don't you remember when we saw him in front of Ancient Runes? You can't tell me that wasn't odd."

Ron's eyes narrowed in concentration and Hermione sighed. "Yes, that was a bit weird, but that doesn't mean something's wrong with him; at the very least, not wrong enough that he'd need to be helped. Especially, not by us. Even if he's stopped antagonizing us, we're not exactly best friends with him or anything."

"I know that, 'Mione. It's just that this is bothering me. It's been going on for awhile. Maybe he needs help and just won't ask for it, or maybe he doesn't need anything at all, and is just being Malfoy, but I need to find out something."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, Harry. How do you know about how strange old ferret-face has been is he's 'not being obvious about it'? You haven't been watching him or anything, have you?" Ron interrupted, looking at Harry and food forgotten.

Harry shifted in his seat. "Er, no?"

"Harry!" Ron groaned.

"Well, I was curious! You'd be too if you saw him that day in front of Ancient Runes! That was beyond bizarre, even for Malfoy!"

"You're doing it again," Ron continued, unperturbed. "You're becoming obsessed!"

"Harry."

Harry looked up at Hermione, confused by the change in tone, only to see her looking at him with something akin to pity. "You don't have to save everyone anymore. You've already done your job."

"What are you talking about, 'Mione?"

"You're only so curious about Malfoy because you think there's something wrong with him and you want to help. But, that's not your job. If Malfoy seriously needed help he'd go to a teacher or to the Headmistress. Maybe he's already being helped and you can't tell. Whatever the circumstances are you don't need to help everyone that may or may not be in trouble."

"She's got a point, mate," Ron added, sobering up. "Even if the ferret _was_ having trouble, it's not any skin off your back."

Harry frowned. "I know I don't _have_ to. I'm not trying to save anybody, I'm just a little curious."

Hermione and Ron shared a look. "Whatever you say, mate," Ron sighed, fiddling absentmindedly with the uneaten hash browns. "So whaddo you suppose we do?"

"Just be on the lookout for anything suspicious—"

"Everything that ferret does is suspicious," Ron grumbled.

"Ron!"

"Alright, alright. Watch the stupid ferret for anything too weird, and then what?"

"I don't know. We'll figure it out after we see what he did," Harry replied, then looked at Hermione. "You're going to help, right?"

Hermione was still frowning. "I still don't think this is any of our business, but since you seem so determined."

Harry grinned. "Thanks 'Mione! And Ron."

"Yeah, yeah. Just know I'm not gonna be watching that ferret-face obsessively like you do!"

Harry huffed again, with no bite behind it. "I do not!"

Breakfast went on lightly, with Harry still glimpsing at the Slytherin table, hoping to catch another of Draco's strange moments, but not being able to.

XxXxXxXxX

It was a couple of weeks after Harry had gotten Ron and Hermione involved with his curiosity that Harry happened upon something very strange. He was taking a late night stroll through the hallways under his invisibility cloak to blow off some steam after getting into an argument with Ron over their lack of progress— neither Hermione or Ron seemed to see what Harry saw, and Harry was getting a bit frustrated— and had wandered past a hall that led to the Owlery when he heard a noise. It wasn't very loud, but it was distinctly human-sounding, and since Harry certainly hadn't been doing anything more interesting. He leaned against the wall, being as quiet as he could, and stopped as soon as he was close enough to hear who was talking and what they were saying. He didn't want to get too close and risk accidentally scaring away what he heard to be Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy.

"...doing! You're going to get us expelled, you little prat! What the bloody hell were you thinking?" Blaise was hissing, obviously enraged. From Harry's view point, he couldn't see either Blaise or Draco, so he couldn't see the position the two were in; Draco was backed onto the wall, holding a letter addressed to Narcissa Malfoy against his chest. Draco had been planning to write to her for awhile, but with the Slytherins terrorizing him, he couldn't. He'd written the letter in the middle of the night, thinking everyone was asleep, and had been pleasantly surprised that Blaise's restriction on what he could say about what was happening to him didn't apply when he was talking to someone who already knew about his Veela. He'd proceeded to write a very detailed letter to his mother about everything that had happened, and sneak out to mail it, totally unaware that Blaise hadn't been asleep and saw him leave. When Blaise had realized Draco was trying to mail a letter, he'd intercepted Draco, taken the letter away, and immediately opened and read it when he saw who it was for. Obviously, Blaise was pissed and that's how Draco found himself with pressed against a wall with Blaise using his body to corner him there.

"I wanted to write a letter to my mother, thank you very much," Draco snarked, feeling full of false confidence. He'd been feeling like that all day, and had been uncharacteristically like his old self. Of course, the Slytherins were annoyed with his haughty attitude after having his submissive self for months and Draco had been hexed more times today than he could keep track of. But somehow he still kept on with his attitude, his Veela only letting him stay subdued for a little while. Draco didn't understand why, but this had been a nice change of pace.

Blaise scowled at him and hissed something else that was too low for Harry to hear. Harry was still on the other side of the wall, listening in, mind working furiously to figure out what problem Blaise would have with Draco mailing his mother, and how that possibly would get Blaise and whoever else was included in 'us' expelled. Harry shifted closer, trying to listen in more, since the two's conversation had lowered significantly in volume, but he couldn't hear anything more without going much closer to the two.

Just as Harry was entertaining the idea of doing just that, Blaise hissed loudly, "...Just you wait!" and stormed off, going right past Harry without a glance and disappearing down a corridor that led to the dungeons. Confused because he hadn't heard or seen Draco leave, Harry tip-toed forward peered around the corner (_in retrospect, Harry wondered why it hadn't occurred to him to just cast a silencing charm on his feet; it would have been much more convenient_).

Draco was in the fetal position on the floor, and his shoulders were shaking. Harry stared; was Draco...crying? Before Harry could even figure it out Draco popped to his feet and stormed away too, in the opposite direction. Harry had no choice but to follow.

Draco led them up through a myriad of corridors and halls, until they reached the stairs that led to the Astronomy Tower. How they'd gotten that far without being caught was beyond Harry, since Draco hadn't even tried to sneak, but they were there, and Harry followed Draco up to the top.

Harry watched Draco settle down near the edge (_biting back bad memories that resurfaced just from being up here_) and just look at the sky. Draco sat like that in silence for what felt like hours, being perfectly still except for a slight trembling that didn't go away, even when Harry got tired of the silence (_and confused by a strange aching that grew stronger the longer he stared at Draco_) and moved closer, accidentally stepping on a piece of wood that squeaked. It wasn't a loud sound, but in the silence they'd been in, it might as well have been deafening.

"W-Who's there?" Draco said as he spun around, pointing his wand in a second towards the general direction of the squeak. Harry stopped, and was debating on whether or not to take the cloak off when Draco cast a hex in his general direction. Harry instinctively dodged, unintentionally making more noise, causing Draco to hex his new spot.

"Show yourself!" Draco cried when he shot a third hex in Harry's direction.

Tired of dodging, Harry did just that, and discarded his cloak on the floor.

"P-Potter?" Draco said in shock, stopping another hex and almost dropping his wand. "What in all bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Following you," Harry replied shamelessly. "Why are you here?"

"That's none of your business, _Potty_," Draco spat, glaring at Harry intensely. "Now, why don't you get lost before I hex you for real." Draco was lying through his teeth. His Veela would rather die than purposely hurt the one Draco had accepted to be his mate. Draco wanted nothing more than to tell Harry everything and have Harry come save him (_again, Draco thought bitterly_) but Draco couldn't do that. Not only would the restriction not let him, but Draco was feeling especially prideful today, and that was getting in the way too.

Harry returned his glare, not lowering the wand he'd whipped out after he'd dropped his cloak despite the fact that Draco's wand was by his side. "I'd like to see you try, _Malfoy_."

Scowling because he couldn't rise to Harry's challenge, Draco turned his back to Harry, returning to his original position. "Go away, Potter. Isn't a goody-two-shoes like you worried about being caught out of bed at night? Why don't you go back to your Gryffindork friends and leave me alone."

"No."

"What?" Draco asked, turning over to peer at Harry. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. No. I followed you up here for a reason and I'm not leaving until I get some answers," Harry replied, crossing his arms determinedly (_stubbornly_), standing defiantly before Draco.

Draco stared for a moment, then turned again. "I can't deal with this right now," he muttered, then said loud enough for Harry to hear, "What do you want, Potter?" and suddenly he sounded so tired and ragged that Harry almost did a double-take.

"Answer my question," Harry went on after a moment, recovering fast. "Why did you come up here?"

"To get away," Draco responded cryptically.

"Away from what?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't.

Harry sighed. This was getting nowhere fast. "Okay, a different question then. What's in that letter?" Harry said, motioning towards Draco's letter that he still had in his wandless hand.

Draco looked it, and said, "A letter to my mother."

"Can you tell me what it says?"

"No."

"Is it private?"

"Yes."

"Is that the reason you can't tell me what it says?"

"No."

"Then why can't you tell me?"

"Because I can't."

"Dammit, Malfoy!" Harry snapped, "Why you—" Harry stopped near rant, when he noticed Draco flinch. "Did you just flinch?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably, still not looking at Harry. "N-No. You're imagining things."

Harry moved closer. He was almost next to Draco at this point. "No, I don't think I am. I heard a noise in the hall near the Owlery not too long ago. When I stopped to investigate, you and Blaise Zabini were talking. When you two were done, he stormed off and you looked like you were crying. What did he say to you? Did he do something to you?"

Draco stiffened and stayed silent for awhile. So long that Harry called his name. "Draco?"

"I can't tell you," Draco whispered so softly that Harry wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't so close. Concerned, Harry cautiously took a seat next to Draco, quite surprised when Draco not only didn't hex him but even scooted over to give Harry more room.

"Why can't you tell me?" Harry tried again, lowering his voice and looking at Draco. He seemed to be looking at the moon, and Harry could see by the tear tracks on his face, he'd been right in assuming Draco had been crying.

"Because I can't," Draco whispered again, and looked at Harry. Harry almost gasped, but kept his mouth shut to not ruin the moment; Draco was looking at him with that same expression Harry had been seeing for the past few months, that indescribable sadness and pain that was all the worse up close. "I want to tell you, I really do. But I can't, it won't let me." Draco cringed, then, his free hand unconsciously going to his throat, then dropping. "I can't tell you."

Harry didn't know what to say. He'd never seen Draco like this before, all defeated and tired and miserable. Even after the war had just ended, Draco had still acted as much the part of his normal proud self as he could manage. Harry didn't know what to say as his throat went dry and he had the strangest urge to protect Draco. Why? He didn't know, after all, Draco didn't need to be protected from anything, right? Blaise's actions earlier were worrisome, but maybe Draco had done something to deserve it, after all, the Draco Harry knew was a prat to everyone, even his friends. Why would he feel this way?

"Harry?"

Harry snapped out of his thoughts, too shocked that Draco had used his first name to say anything but, "What?"

"Stay still. I want to try something."

Harry tensed on instinct, expecting something potentially painful, but certainly expecting not Draco to lean on him, which is exactly what he did. Draco put his head on Harry's shoulder, having scooted closer to Harry, and closed his eyes. Harry froze, confusion mixing in to the jumble of emotions he'd already been feeling. What was Draco doing? Calling him by his first name, something he'd _never_ done, and _leaning_ on him? Practically, _sleeping_? What confused Harry even worse was that the urge to protect Draco got even stronger then, and a warm feeling was spreading through his body from Draco's body heat. Harry hadn't done anything that felt like this since his thing with Ginny that had failed because of the war, and Harry _most definitely_ didn't expect to be doing it again, not with a boy, and _especially_ not with _Malfoy_ of all people. Harry was almost disgusted by how much he seemed to enjoy having Draco so close to him, and how his heart skipped a little when he managed to look and see that Draco really had fallen asleep on him. He almost looked...kind of...cute like that, maybe, and—.

"No!"

Harry scrambled away, pushing Draco off of him, and staring at Draco as if he'd grown another head. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Are you a pouf? Get away from me!"

Harry stood up, picking up his cloak and glaring at Draco who was on the floor, staring unseeingly at him, wide-eyed and confused. "Don't touch me again, Malfoy, no, don't even come near me! Ju-Just stay away from me!" Harry threw the cloak over himself and almost ran out of the tower and to Gryffindor Tower, being careful not to wake anyone, but to no avail. Ron rolled over in his bed, and looked sleepily at Harry, anger over they fight gone.

"Where you been, mate? It's like, 1 o' clock in the morning."

"...Nowhere, Ron. Go back to sleep."

Ron stared, then yawned and rolled back over. "Whatever you say, mate." And he was out like a light.

It wasn't until Harry had stopped panting from his near-run, and his mind had stopped spinning from everything he'd heard did he realize that he'd possibly been a bit too harsh on Draco, and that Draco was probably still sitting on the Astronomy Tower, just as Harry had left him.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Harry was looking for Draco all the next week, having scolded himself for his reaction for the better part of the rest of that night, and wanted to apologize, by Draco was avoiding him like the plague. Every opportunity— and there weren't many; Draco seemed to be surrounded even more often by a bunch of snakes— that Harry saw to talk to him, Draco would slip out of it. Harry was never even able to catch his eye, but Harry could easily see that Draco wasn't the same as he was before their little encounter. Hell, he was acting so differently even Ron was starting to notice.

"So, Harry, you figured out what was up with ferret-face yet?" Ron said to him on the way to Potions. "He is acting a bit barmy lately." Hermione came closer to the two of them so she could hear too.

"That's right, I haven't told you guys about that yet," Harry only just then realized that he'd been keeping what he saw and heard from the Slytherins to himself. They didn't need to know about what happened at the end of the story, but the rest was information that they (_read: Hermione_) could have helped him figure out.

"Haven't told us about what?" Hermione asked.

"I'll tell you when we get back to the common room," Harry replied, pulling open the door to the Potions lab and going in, nodding at Slughorn who was beaming at him, like always.

When they were in the common room, and after Hermione had cast a silencing charm around the three of them, Harry told them all about what he heard in the corridor and the conversation with Draco in the Tower, excluding the end part as he'd planned.

"That sounds like Zabini might be bullying Malfoy," Hermione said, instantly worried.

"No, that doesn't make sense. Why would Zabini do that? Besides, the two of them were acting like the best of friends this morning," Harry rejected the idea immediately.

"I don't know why, but that's what it sounds like. It's like Zabini was threatening Malfoy with something," Hermione insisted.

"I really don't think that's it, 'Mione," Harry replied, looking at Hermione skeptically.

"Besides, even if it was, that ferret deserves it," Ron added offhandedly.

"Ron!" Hermione said, turning on him. "Nobody _deserves_ to be bullied! Especially not badly enough to make someone like Malfoy _cry_!"

"Sure people do! Especially people like Malfoy! He certainly didn't have problems doing it to us, the prat."

"But that's not the point," Hermione continued. "Two wrongs don't make a right, Ronald."

"Yeah, but—"

"Guys!"

"What?" Hermione and Ron said at the same time, looking at Harry.

"This isn't the time to arguing about this. We're still talking here," Harry said, somewhat used to their bickering, but not needing it now.

"You're right, Harry," Hermione responded, properly abashed. Ron mumbled something to the same effect, and that was enough for Harry.

"Now back on topic, it sounds to me like Malfoy wants our, or at least my help. Two problems though. I don't know what he needs help with or how to help him since he says he can't tell me. And," Harry started to mumble here, "he's kind of avoiding me."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Um, well, that's not important right now; I can figure that out on my own, I need help with the first problem. I can't do anything for him if he won't tell me what's his problem." Harry said, muttering at first, then getting louder.

Hermione looked doubtful. "I still want to know why you think he's avoiding you, Harry, but if you say you can handle it...As to figuring out his problem, the only way to do that besides keep doing what you're doing or asking one of his friends would be to ask him yourself, but since he won't say anything...wait, Harry, what did he tell you when you asked about his problem?" Hermione's mind was working.

"He wouldn't tell me about it," Harry supplied, confused.

"No, no, that's not what I asked. What did he say? Like what words did he use?"

"He said, 'I can't tell you'. Why?"

Hermione moved into a thinking position. "Why did he say that? 'I can't tell you'?"

"We're not following you, 'Mione," Ron said, just as confused as Harry.

"Why would he say that he _can't _tell you, instead of something like 'I don't want to tell you' or 'It's none of your business'? He wanted to tell you, right? But, he couldn't. It's not that he _wouldn't_ tell you, it's that he _can't_!"

"Still not following you. I already know he wanted to tell me and couldn't. That's the same thing as saying he wouldn't tell me. Either way I don't know anything. What's your point?"

"There must be something keeping him from telling you, if he wants to and can't. Did he do anything after he told you he can't tell you? Anything odd?"

Harry thought about it. "Well, he did touch his neck after he said it, once." Harry hadn't included that detail, since he hadn't thought anything of it when it happened, but it was odd to do, now that he thought about it.

"Like how he grabbed his neck when he was talking to us by the Ancient Runes classroom?"

"Yeah, but not that drastically. He kinda cringed too, like his neck hurt or something. I barely noticed it when it was happening."

"Maybe he was being literal!" Hermione was getting excited now, obviously seeing an opportunity to research and solve a mystery. "Maybe he literally _couldn't_ tell you? Like it would have hurt him to say it? But, what could possibly cause that? I sure there are more extreme silencing spells that might physically hurt someone for saying something."

"Like an Unbreakable Vow?" Ron suggested.

"Yes!" Hermione brightened, obviously overjoyed. "Or maybe a potion that has similar effects? Or a curse? Who would want to silence Malfoy, though? Why would they say not to tell his problem to you? Is it specifically you he can't tell it to? Can he say it to anyone else?"

"Hermione, slow down," Harry said, smiling. Finally, they'd taken a more active interest, and he'd finally get some help. "We can't answer any of those questions without asking him, and he can't tell us anything. We need to find a way to make so he can, and then we'll figure everything out."

"Yes, you're right, Harry," Hermione agreed, then turned on Ron. "Come on then Ron, you're going to help me study silencing spells and potions to find counters for them, while Harry goes and asks the Slytherins if they know anything."

"What?" Hermione got twin yells from Ron and Harry.

"You want Harry to go talk to those snakes by himself? What if they do something to him!"

"Honestly Ron, Harry's the Savior of the Wizarding World, I hardly think he has anything to worry about."

"But what makes you think they'll tell me anything? Why would they?" Harry asked.

"You'll just have to try then. If we can't ask Draco, we'll have to ask the next best thing, his housemates."

"You just called the Ferret by his first name!" Ron was aghast.

"Oh grow up, Ron. We've been through a war. I think we're over something petty like refusing to say each other's first names. Besides, we're going to be helping Draco. I'm sure he'll appreciate it if we say his actual name while we're doing so."

"But-but-!"

"I'm done with it, Ron," Hermione interrupted, taking off the silencing charm and turning to Harry. "We'll really start this tomorrow, alright Harry?"

"What do you mean 'really start'?" Harry asked as Hermione moved around him and towards the portrait.

"I'm getting a head start, but you two don't have to worry about it until tomorrow," she said, then disappeared through the portrait.

Hermione was on a mission. Her mind was swirling with all the possibilities of different things that could physically restrict a person's speech, and Hermione couldn't wait to explore them. How she'd test them was another matter entirely that they'd need to figure out, but she put that aside for now, and instead focused on finding the spell or potion that could do this.

The library was still open for a few more hours, and Hermione planned on using that time for research. She disappeared into the spells section of the library first, having been in the library so often she knew exactly where to find what she was looking for.

Hermione took about six tomes from the shelves for her first trip, then levitated them into a deeper section of the library; she couldn't have nosy people interrupting her work. It was silent this deep in the library, or, at least, it was supposed to be, but Hermione was sure she could hear the scratching of quill on parchment.

Too curious for her own good (_she must have gotten it from Harry_), she silently set her books down in a shelf aisle and followed her ears, casting a silencing charm on her feet and mentally tried to rationalize her soon-to-be spying. Not too far away from her was, surprise, surprise, Draco, alone and scribbling furiously at a piece of parchment, a pile of textbooks and library books covering the table. _Draco? What was he doing all the way back here? _

Coming closer, Hermione looked closer at the textbooks, wondering what Draco was working on that he had to come so deep into the library. _Is that...a Divination textbook? None of the eighth years take Divination, so why is he...?_ Hermione looked at the library books that she could see. _Why Draco have a book on constellations? He doesn't take Astrology either._ Too curious to let it go, she went up to Draco, releasing the charm to alert Draco, but noting that Draco still didn't even notice she was there, even without the silencing charm.

"Draco?"

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd been doing more of the seventh-years work, and had to come to library to get more information than what the textbook and his memory had, but hadn't wanted to get caught, hence why he was so deep in the library. He'd been so into he hadn't heard Hermione come up behind him at all.

But then again, even if he hadn't been working he doubted he would have heard her; after Harry had rejected him on the Tower a week ago his Veela had been crushed, which led to an even worse situation for Draco. He'd spent the night in the Tower, in too much pain from his despairing Veela to move. Luckily, he'd been able to leave before Firenze or anyone else had come by, but he was so out of it, he'd almost skipped classes. Knowing he wouldn't be allowed to, he'd soldiered on, and adamantly avoided even looking at Harry, who he was still avoiding. He wouldn't be able to handle dealing with Harry this soon after being rejected, and he went so far as to purposefully hang out with the other Slytherins just to avoid it.

Of course, they were giving him hell, seeing as Blaise had been beyond pissed with him for trying to inform his mother about his happenings. Blaise had wanted to 'punish' him for it, and they'd found the perfect one by a young Slytherin accidentally brushed casually against his bare arm. The action hurt Draco, who hadn't been wearing his long robes for once. Blaise, who had long since become something of a controller of Draco, had given permission to the Slytherins to touch Draco casually when they wanted to, which the more vindictive ones proceeded to do. They might as well have been dragging knives across Draco, as much as their touches hurt. Draco had come here to work as much to avoid them as to do the assignment right.

"Draco? Did you hear me?"

That's right, the mudblood asked a question (_Draco bitterly laughed in his head about the irony in using that word for Hermione in his situation_). "What do you want, mudblood?"

Hermione scowled. "Don't call me that, Malfoy. I'm not here to start an argument with you."

Draco wanted to call her that again, just out of spite, but scowled himself when his magic took what she said as an order and the noose on his neck tightened in warning. "Fine. What, Granger?"

Hermione blinked. She hadn't expected Draco to actually listen to her. "Um...I wanted to see what you were doing. You're all the way back here, by yourself and—" she started, a bit off balance at first, but getting stronger, until Draco coldly interrupted.

"What I'm doing and where is none of your business. What's with you Gryffindors, always sticking your noses where they don't belong."

Hermione glowered. "Humor me, then. Tell me why you're doing homework from seventh-year. You don't take Divination or Astrology."

"Didn't I just say what I do is none of your concern?"

"I don't care. I want to know."

"Too bad."

"Fine then," Hermione snapped, fed up with Draco's attitude, but not missing his slight flinch. "For your information, I was going to offer to help you, but never mind if you're going to be a berk about it."

Hermione collected her books and left after that, missing Draco mumbling an apology.

XxXxXxXxX

To say Draco Malfoy was miserable was an understatement. With the Slytherins practically torturing him, adding on to the unholy amount of work he was still being forced to do, and Quidditch practice every day now that they were getting closer to playing the Gryffindors for the first time, Draco could barely get the energy to move. The Pepper-Ups were barely helping anymore; he'd been taking them for so long so regularly it was taking more and more potions just to keep him on his feet, let alone in the good condition Pepper-Ups were supposed to cause. His supply on ingredients was running low as well; Slughorn had already started to notice his ingredients were going missing and Draco had overheard him talking about warding them. Draco had no idea what he'd do if Slughorn did that.

Draco was currently at a Quidditch practice, where Slughorn and McGonagall had agreed to having the Slytherins and Gryffindors have a small practice match before the real one. Draco was trying his hardest to not look at Harry, who was barely even trying to be discreet about his staring. His chest thrummed painfully when he and his team lined up before the Gryffindors and Harry was right in front of him. He avoided Harry's eyes as he flew into the air, barely staying on, he was so out of it. Draco had no idea how he'd manage to play in the real match, but, it had to be done.

"Malfoy?"

Draco ignored Harry as the two of them flew to a vantage spot to look for the Snitch.

"Malfoy? Answer me, why don't you? I know you hear me."

"What, Potter?" Draco snapped, ignoring the pain his Veela was inflicting.

Harry ignored Draco's anger. "Draco, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Draco asked, only halfheartedly looking for the Snitch.

"For they way I reacted in the Astronomy Tower. I shouldn't have— I mean I'm not— I didn't mean—"

"Stop your stammering," Draco cut in icily despite the joy that was spreading through him. Harry apologizing didn't take back the fact that he's rejected Draco, but it helped him feel a little better. "I don't care if you're sorry or not. Leave me alone." Only a little better. Draco still felt like he'd been ran over by a hippogriff a few times and blamed it entirely on Harry. His nightmares had come back after he was rejected, and he hadn't slept properly all week as a result.

Harry looked surprised, then glowered at him. "Fine then," he huffed and flew away. Draco wanted to follow him, but didn't berating himself for running Harry away.

The match ended quickly, with Harry taking the Snitch without a fight from Draco, who barely had enough energy to stay in the air, let alone race Harry for the Snitch, and the teams landed, shook hands, and hit the showers. Harry took his time in the shower, using the time to try and analyze what he'd felt in the Astronomy Tower. By the time he'd given up because he ended up more confused than he started, he'd long since turned his shower off and everyone was gone. Shaking his head in an effort to clear it he pushed open his stall door and froze before he could even open it properly.

He wasn't alone. Draco was still there (_and wearing an embarrassingly meager amount of clothes_) and Harry couldn't stop staring. Draco's upper arms and back were decorated in small bruises. Draco's hair was wild, his shoulder were slumped, and was he always that thin?; what kind of condition was he in? Draco seemed to be talking to himself, muttering so lowly that Harry couldn't hear, and was

prodding one of the fresher-looking bruises, wincing when he pressed too hard.

"What happened?" Harry asked, after summoning a towel that he wrapped around himself. "Where'd you get those bruises?"

Draco jumped and looked at Harry, startled badly. He thought he was alone, so it was okay to drop the energy-seeping glamors, but apparently not. (_Draco was very annoyed with himself for being so easy to sneak up on these days. How many times had this happened?_) Draco panicked for a moment wondering whether to hide the bruises and pretend they weren't there, or ignore Harry, or obliviate him (_ha, Draco knew the second he lifted his wand Harry would have his out too_), or-or-or—

"Draco!"

Draco sighed; there was no hiding them now, Harry saw them already. And since obliviating was out of the question, "I can't tell you."

"Not this again, Draco. Don't tell me that."

Draco frowned as the magic took that as an order.

"Where'd you get the bruises?"

Draco paused, then shook his head 'no'.

"No? Why are you shaking your head at me?"

"Because I—!" Draco was very frustrated with Harry, and wished he was as quick as Blaise was in figuring this out. Draco shook his head again.

"What? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Stop asking me questions I can't answer," Draco replied.

"Why can't you answer?"

Draco almost threw his hands up. _This impossible Gryffindork! _"Because I can't! Didn't we already go through this on the Tower?"

"Don't get snippy with me!" Harry was getting frustrated too. "I'm trying to help your arse and you're running me around in circles! Is there some kind of spell on you that's keeping you from telling me?"

Draco considered that. Technically yes, the restrictions were spells. Wordless and wandless spells specific to Submissive Veela that couldn't be heard or controlled by the Veela's host, yes, but spells, none the less. "Yes."

"What kind of spell?"

"I-" Draco shook his head.

"No what? You can't tell me?"

"Right."

"Wh—"

"If you ask me 'why not' or anything like that again, Potter, I swear I'm going to get up and leave."

Harry scowled, then lunged forward when Draco suddenly snatched at his throat. "Whoa, what's wrong now?"

Draco released his throat after a moment, then shooed Harry away. "...My throat hurts."

"Wh—"

Draco glared intensely.

"Oh, right, sorry. So you can't tell me anything because of a spell, right?"

"Right."

"Do you need my help to get rid of this spell?"

Draco had to think about that too. The spell wouldn't go away. It was always there, just when he mated, it'd be restricted to his mate's orders, instead of orders from everyone.

"This spell doesn't go away," Draco tried, breathing in relief when the noose didn't burn him again.

"So what are you supposed to do with it? How are you supposed to get help if you can't say anything about it?"

"I keep it, it'll always be with me, just—" Draco frowned when the noose warmed in warning. "not...all the way when...something...happens," he finished lamely, having to work around the things the magic thought would be too much information.

Harry's face screamed 'are you serious?'. "Draco. You do know that wasn't in the least bit helpful, right?"

Draco colored. "Well, I c—, I'm not—, anything more won't come out! You don't know how hard it is to tell you something without telling you something!"

Harry's expression remained the same. "You're not even making sense anymore."

"You know what!" Draco snapped, trying to stand, then getting floored when the magic demeaned him being 'snippy'. "Leave me alone, Potter!" Draco continued, shooing him away when Harry tried to help him up. "I don't need your help if you're going to be difficult!"

"Me? I'm the one being difficult? You're the one trying to 'say stuff without saying it' or whatever! It doesn't even sound like you want my help!" Harry couldn't help getting riled when Draco did. Especially when Draco was being a prat.

"I don't! I don't want your help!" Draco stood by himself, taking his clothes that had been next to him and storming towards a stall. His eyes were glistening from the pain he was putting his Veela through, but he refused to cry right then. "You can't help me anyway!"

"And why can't I?" Harry snapped, offended for some reason by Draco's words.

"_Because you can't_!"

"Oh Merlin! Why did I even consider wanting to help you?" Harry said more to the ceiling than Draco. "You just as much of a bratty ponce as you were when I met you! I—" Harry stopped. He'd just done this and regretted it not even half a month ago. He'd been trying for a week to apologize for something like this for the past week. What was he doing?

"Draco," Harry started, entirely deflated. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, I was just mad."

"G-Go away, Potter."

"No," Harry sighed. "I'm going to sit right here until you tell me as much as you can about those bruises."

"No. I—. No."

"Then, I'm not leaving. And you're not either. Classes are over for the day and curfew is nowhere near. You don't have anything to do, so we're not leaving until you talk to me."

"No." Draco sniffed, feeling the magic wrap around his ankle and tie a chain there. He couldn't help crying after what Harry said. Why did he have to have _Harry Potter_ of all people as a mate? The one person in the world that hated his guts (_okay, one of the people_) and the densest person Draco knew (_besides Goyle_) just had to be his mate. He angrily wiped the tears away, forcibly keeping them at bay. Draco felt perfectly justified in acting like a child when Harry was the way he was.

"Fine."

The two were in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the rustling of clothes as Draco finished dressing and Harry dressed as well. Draco came out of the stall clean and under his glamor and returned to his place, ignoring Harry watching him. "Well?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at Draco's glamor, but leaving it in place.

"There's nothing to tell you."

"Why are they there? Did someone hurt you? Why, when, and with what?"

"They're a punishment. Obviously, yes, someone hurt me. 'No' to the rest of the questions."

"A punishment?" Harry had a sudden flashback of his time with the Dursleys and a wave of anger that he bit down flooded him. "Who punished you? For what?"

"No."

"The 'no' means that's something you can't tell me, right?"

Draco's expression gave him his answer.

"Right, well then, how long is this punishment supposed to last?"

"Until it stops."

"Is it one person punishing you?"

"No."

"'No' you can't answer that or 'no' more than one person?"

"Your first guess."

"Since I can't seem to get anymore information about that out of you, how about this one: do you want me to help you?"

"Yes? What's with that question? I thought you knew that already?"

"Wanted to clarify. You want my help with your problem that you can't tell me about, right?"

"Yes."

"Is the punishment apart of your problem? How do I help you?"

"Yes and No."

"Okay, that's something," Harry mused. "Can I find out how to help you from somewhere else? Or someone else?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me where?"

"Books. Or my—"

"Draco? What are you doing in here with Potter?"

The both of them spun around at the new voice, Draco's stomach lurching. Blaise was standing there, looking calm and not out of the ordinary, but Draco could see he was angry. Draco stood up, adopting his haughty attitude and replying, "None of your business, Blaise. But, I'm finished now. Let's go."

"You're not finished. You haven't answered my question," Harry said slowly.

"Why were you even talking to that Gryffindor, Draco?" Blaise said, ignoring Harry completely.

"We were talking about the match coming up. Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

"Is that right?" Blaise said smoothly. "Let's go. Pansy's having a fit because you haven't come back yet."

"Wait!" Harry jumped to his feet. "We're not done yet."

Draco sighed and looked over his shoulder as he led Blaise out the shower room. "Yes, we are."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Harry didn't get another chance to really see Draco until the Quidditch match against Slytherin. He only saw Draco during classes during the week, and Draco didn't interact with him more than absolutely necessary. Harry had told Hermione what he found out, and she'd disappeared into the library in a flash, dragging Ron with her, even more curious after what she'd been told. She'd been so excited, in fact, that she hadn't remembered to tell Harry about her encounter with Draco in the library.

Draco had straightened up, it seems, after their conversation, because the random moments of vulnerability no longer appeared, and Draco was cold and aloof all week. If Harry didn't know any better, he would have thought Draco had fixed his problem and was fine. The sudden change in attitude was what had Harry worried.

Harry watched Draco while the two teams walked onto the field and when they boarded their brooms and when they flew into the air. There was something wrong with him. Draco had his glamor on, but he looked exhausted none the less. His kickoff was slower than usual and he was off by a few seconds in reaching the vantage point. "Did you get enough sleep last night?" Harry said loudly; they were so high up no one would hear them if they talked.

Draco looked at him. "Leave me alone. I don't want to talk right now."

"Why not?" Harry asked, keeping a lookout for the Snitch.

"I'm tired." Draco mumbled. Harry wondered how he heard that at all.

"Why? You didn't sleep well?"

Draco didn't answer; instead he shifted on his broom. No, he hadn't slept well. Hell, he hadn't slept at all! Not last night, not all week. His nightmares kept him awake normally, but last night Terrence had decided to drop a huge essay on him that he should have been given a week ago. The essay was due the morning of the game, or in a few hours. Draco had fully intended to tell Terrence off for doing something so stupid, but Terrence had threatened him with more than just the casual touches the Slytherins had been giving him routinely if he didn't get the essay done and in on time. Too terrified of the thought to even question whether Terrence was serious or not, Draco had taken on the challenge and barely finished. Rushing so much had taken what little energy he had left, and with no time to attempt to nap or brew more Pepper-Ups, he'd just taken the Pepper-Ups he had and hoped for the best.

"Draco? Hey, are you falling asleep?"

Draco started, righting himself on his broom. "No."

"Draco—" Harry stopped, and stared as the Snitch zipped past him and right to Draco. It stopped to his right, then fly in playful circles around Draco.

Draco saw the Snitch, and tried to grab it, but his reflexes were pathetically sluggish. Every grab he made for the Snitch it avoided, then just moved to somewhere else in Draco's reach and waited for Draco to reach again, only to repeat the process. Harry couldn't stop staring, completely dumbfounded by the sight before him.

"What—"

"Watch out!"

Harry ducked instinctively at the cry and felt a Bludger fly over his head. It zoomed angrily for a minute, then turned and hummed itself right back into their direction.

The next few moments happened in a huge blur for Harry.

He moved out of the possible path of the angry Bludger immediately, but it wasn't until he'd that he realized Draco hadn't. Draco was still sleepily trying to catch the Snitch, not paying attention to what was around him in the slightest.

"Draco! Move!"

Harry was moving before he even shouted. Draco stopped himself in mid-swing to blearily look at him. "What? Why?"

_Crash_!

Draco went flying off his broom, totally blindsided by the Bludger and too tired to react. Harry was racing after him in an instant, while the crowd gasped collectively and teachers stood up in their seats, McGonagall whipping her wand out and casting the same spell Dumbledore had used on Harry in third year.

Harry reached for the unconscious Draco, speeding as fast as he could to catch Draco's fast falling body. He reached, and reached, and his fingers touched the end of Draco's robes, and the magic wrapped around the both of them, and everything was going so fast, and _I don't want him to die!_ And

nothing but black.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

A/N: I can't apologize enough for the late update. Between schoolwork, finals, other things, and a huge writer's block that vanished for a day, this came quite late. To sort of make up for it, I looked at my longest chapter and wrote a chapter a little over twice as long (_This chapter is a few hundred words short of 9000 words without the Author's Note_). I'm really going to try to not do this again (_I don't have the classes that buried me in homework anymore_) and feel free to pester me in PMs if I do. The bout of writer's block I had kept me from writing for the most part, but today, I sat down and wrote. The changing points of views are my efforts to get over the block (_it worked_) and I ended up writing the vast majority of this chapter in one day.

But enough about me and on to the story. I ended up putting most of the rest of everything I'd planned so far into this chapter, so, to continue, I need ideas. I only know the vaguest things about what's going to happen next, so input would be greatly appreciated (_I can't update if I don't know what to write_)_. _And please excuse any mistakes I've missed, this wasn't proofread well. 


	9. Chapter 9

Harry woke up with a soft moan, the sound of arguing bombarding his head where a headache was quickly coming to life. _What happened? The last thing I remember is flying in the Quidditch match. Draco was flying with me. And then…the Bludger! _Harry shot up, knocking the Hospital Wing bed covers off of him and looked around wildly, then cringed as his headache spiked. He gripped at his head, just as the arguing people stopped and turned their attention to him.

"Harry!"

"Mr. Potter!" came about three or four shouts at once that had Harry groaning and leaning back on the bed, adjusting himself so he could sit up.

"Stop yelling. You're giving me a headache."

The sound of bustling and shooing replaced the arguing as Madam Pomfrey started fussing over him, handing him a headache potion and some Bruise Removal Paste, as well as a pain-relieving potion Harry had never seen before. "Welcome to the world of the living again, Mr. Potter; here you are. Take these and turn around so I can rub the paste on your back."

"What? Why?" Harry drunk the headache potion first, sighing in relief when his headache went away. Before he turned around, he took a moment to look and see who else was in the room to figure out who was arguing.

Hermione, Ron, Theo, Pansy, Blaise, McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey were crowded around two beds, one of which holding Harry and the other with covers pulled over a similarly sized form with only thin, sickly blond hair peeking out. It took a few seconds for Harry's disoriented mind to understand the form was Draco.

"What the bloody hell do you think you were doing!" That was Ron, who was absolutely livid and about as red in the face as his hair. "You could have died!"

"What was he supposed to do? Just let him die?" Hermione. She turned on Ron.

"How un-Gryffindorish of you, Weasely," Pansy sniffed, arms crossed and standing closer to Draco's bed than Harry's.

"Yeah," Theo added, standing near Pansy. "Never thought you guys wouldn't risk your necks for anybody. Half-witted martyrs, you are."

Ron bristled and turned on Theo. "Who in their right minds would do _anything _for you lot?"

"Your Golden Boy , obviously," Blaise cut in smoothly. He was closest to Draco, sitting on the end of his bed. Harry stared, remembering what he'd seen in the hall. "What are you looking at?" Blaise asked when he noticed Harry's staring. Harry quickly looked away, glancing at Draco, who was obviously unconscious, then looking back at his friends.

They were still arguing, though McGonagall and Pomfrey were giving them a tongue-lashing for making so much noise in a hospital via senseless arguing. They only shut up when Pomfrey threatened to kick them out.

"Could somebody tell me how I got here?" Harry asked, filling in the now awkward silence. That got their attention. "My memory stops at going after Draco."

"You did go after him, and reached him just before he hit the ground and my spell reached him. It caught you both so you only got minor injuries; just a few bumps and bruises really, but the reason why you're here is to make sure you're not seriously hurt, and to deal with a matter that was just recently brought to my attention." McGonagall cut in before any of the students could start. The mood of the room gradually dropped as McGonagall went on, sobering almost completely by the end.

'"What…matter?" Harry said, unconsciously quieting, confused at the new mood.

Instead of answering, Hermione motioned towards Draco's bed, biting her lip and looking at the ground. Harry looked and watched Blaise pull the cover away from Draco. Harry gasped.

Draco was covered in bruises and burns, with a few blisters littering him. He was ridiculously thin, and everything on his body— which was only covered by the cover pooling around his waist and a pair of boxers— was almost off-white, it was so pale, minus his ears, which were tinted red. There were deep, dark bags under his eyes, his hair was a complete mess, and his arm was lying uselessly at his side and the darkest blue and purple and ugliest bruise was there. Draco's eyes were closed, he appeared to be asleep. Harry had seen Draco in the showers awhile ago, had seen the bruises already, but they were nowhere near this bad. He'd never seen all the other things either.

"What happened to him?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"That's what we've been trying to figure out, Mr. Potter," McGonagall replied. "But it seems we're having a little trouble uncovering the truth. According to Mr. Malfoy's friends, this state was caused by his fall as well as inter-house bullying. That Mr. Malfoy is being attacked by members of the other Houses and keeping it to himself. Your friends, on the other hand, think that something else is going on instead, or, at least, the Slytherins aren't telling the whole story."

"What reason do we have to lie?" Pansy asked, peeking at Draco. "What else could it possibly be?"

"What reason _don't_ you have," Ron practically hissed, getting riled up again. "I wouldn't put it past you dirty snakes to beat up on your own kind. Maybe you hate him now, now that his _daddy_ is rotting in Azkaban and he can't go rat on you anymore."

"Excuse me?" Pansy spun around towards, hackles raised. "What do you think you're implying, you Mudblood-loving blood traitor! How _dare_ you even accuse us of such a thing!" Despite Pansy being the only one to verbally react, both Blaise and Theo tensed considerably at Ron's insult, an action that didn't go unnoticed to Harry.

"It's true and you know it!" Ron huffed, not backing down from the angry girl in the least.

Before Pansy could attempt to throttle Ron, Hermione and Theo stepped in almost as one. Theo pulled Pansy into a hug, which was actually more like physically restraining her than anything. He whispered things in her ear that Harry couldn't make out, then she visibly relaxed, took a deep breath, and was cool and unaffected again. Theo let her go when he was sure she wouldn't do anything she'd regret later. Hermione simply called Ron's name, sounding incredibly cross. Ron looked at her almost immediately and then down in shame at the look she gave him, the tips of his ears burning.

"Now then," Hermione said, turning her attention to Blaise. "Blaise."

Blaise straightened up a little. "Yes, Granger?"

"What were you saying to Draco when you caught him mailing a letter to his Mum a couple weeks ago?"

Blaise's eyes narrowed for a moment, then his face went back to passive. "That's none of your business, _Granger_. How did you know about that, anyway? We didn't see you there."

"How I know isn't important. What's important is that you answer my question. To me, it looked like _you_ were the one bullying him."

"I wasn't," Blaise didn't hesitate, nor change expression. "I was comforting him, if you must know. He was writing to his Mum about the other Houses and wanted her advice. He'd been about to be hexed by another student when I found him. He was overwhelmed and upset and I was supporting him. Believe it or not, Granger, but we Slytherins do stick together, and some of us _are_ friends, as hard as that is to believe."

Hermione blushed, unable to think of any flaws with what Blaise had said. "Who was the student who'd been going to hex him? Surely you must have saw him, or at least what House the person was in?"

"I don't know. The student ran away when they heard me coming. All I saw was Draco leaning against the wall. He told me about a student wanting to hex him, but I didn't want to upset him more by asking for more details. He told me to forget about it, so I did."

Harry frowned. There was nothing wrong with Blaise's story that Harry could prove at the moment, but what Blaise was saying and the little bit of conversation Harry had heard didn't match up. If Harry remembered correctly, Blaise had sounded anything but comforting when he'd talked to Draco. He'd been pissed, and was _insulting_ Draco, if anything. And there was something about someone getting expelled? Harry couldn't remember, he was overworking his weakened mind and his headache was starting to come back.

"Harry? What do you think?" Hermione asked him, worrying her lip. Harry could easily see Hermione had forgotten the finer details of Harry's explanation, or it didn't occur to her to bring up since she couldn't prove it either. They were basically playing 'He-Said-She-Said' without any proof, and Harry was too out-of-it to think of a way to prove it.

"…" Harry was silent. The Slytherins took Harry's silence as a defeat,

"See, Granger?" Theo said. "Now stop making baseless accusations about us."

"But—But—" Harry could see Hermione's mind working a mile a minute to prove her case. "I got it! Headmistress!" Hermione turned to McGonagall, who was silently watching the whole exchange with Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" McGonagall replied, somewhat caught off guard at being addressed.

"Can't you make the Slytherins take the Truth Serum so we can ask them questions and know they aren't lying?"

"Absolutely not!" McGonagall sounded appalled. "The Truth Serum is only brought out when absolutely necessary! It's used for interrogations, as I'm sure you know. On what grounds do you think I should take these students in to be interrogated? On your word alone?"

"No, but I can promise you he's lying!" Hermione said, getting more passionate towards the end. "Draco is under some type of spell that someone put on him to keep him from telling the truth!"

"What on earth makes you say that?" McGonagall looked startled.

"He told us himself! Well, not me or Ron, but he told Harry!"

All eyes went to Harry. "Is this true, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked.

"Um…Yes. He did tell me that, Headmistress," Harry hesitated, distracted by Pansy's nostrils flaring at the mention of a spell.

"Were you three aware of Mr. Malfoy being under the influence of a spell?" McGonagall turned onto the Slytherins, who were once again uniformly impassive.

"Draco isn't under any spell," Pansy said. "He would have told us if he was."

"So you weren't aware?"

"There's nothing to be aware of," Blaise agreed. "Draco isn't under any sort of spell. Who would cast it on him without any of us knowing?"

"Better yet," Theo cut in. "Why would Draco tell you three, his enemies since Year 1, about a spell he was under before he told us, his closest friends?"

McGonagall paused, then looked towards Harry. "Well, Mr. Potter?"

It was Harry's turn to flush. "He told me in the showers after the Quidditch match. He had bruises then too, but not as bad as this, and he told me a spell was the reason he couldn't tell me how he got them."

"That doesn't answer my question," replied Theo.

"So you knew about Draco being hurt before?" Pansy added. "Why did you keep that to yourself?"

"What spell did he say he was under?" Blaise said too. "And you haven't answered my question either?"

"Why would he tell you that?"

"Why would he want to be in your presence any longer than necessary in the first place?"

"When were you planning to tell someone about this?"

Harry faltered under the barrage of questions from the three Slytherins, who were asking him question after question without giving Harry any time to answer any of them. It wasn't until now that Harry realized how insane it sounded that he would know all these things about Draco when, as far as the majority of the school was concerned, he and Draco were still mortal enemies. Which brought up the question of "What are we to each other now?" since they had obviously moved past the enemy territory.

"Alright, enough!" Luckily for Harry, McGonagall had heard enough. "Since it's obvious we can't get a straight story everyone can agree on now, the only we can do is wait. Poppy? Why don't you do a quick check for any spells placed on Mr. Malfoy for us please?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded, shooing the Slytherins away from Draco and taking out her wand, performing the necessary spells to check for any curses, hexes, or wizarding spells that were placed on Draco. The procedure didn't take long, and when Pomfrey pulled away, the conscious occupants of the room were waiting with baited breath.

"There are no wand-casted spells on Mr. Malfoy, Headmistress," Pomfrey announced, earning various reactions from the students. "The only spells I was able to find were traces of schoolyard hexes and jinxes and minor curses like the Stinging Hex, or the Jelly Legs Jinx. Most of these injuries were caused by these spells. There's no type of silencing spell or restrictive spell that I can detect on him."

Harry was dumbfounded. "What?"

"No student casted any type of silencing or restrictive spell on him, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey repeated herself, casting counter-curses for the hexes she identified. The blisters, cuts, burns, and quite a few of the bruises were taken away one-by-one. When Pomfrey finished with that, she ran one more check up spell over Draco. "Though there are no spells, it does seem that Mr. Malfoy has been consuming large amounts of Pepper Up Potion on a daily basis, which is why his ears are red. Where he has been getting the Potions, or storing them, is the question."

McGonagall sighed. "All we are doing is creating more questions without answering any of them. The best thing we can do is wait until Mr. Malfoy wakes up and see if we can get more information from him."

"But he can't tell you!" Harry cried, now very confused. Draco had said he was under a spell, under a spell he needed Harry's help to get out of. Had he been lying?

"And why not?"

"Because—" _of the spell he's under. _Harry gave a frustrated growl, ignoring his throbbing headache. "Because he can't! Every time I asked something that's what he said! 'Because I can't'! He _told _me he physically can't say anything about the spell."

"Harry," that was Hermione's voice, sounding quite small. "There is no spell. Madam Pomfrey just checked for it herself."

"Then maybe it's a potion—!"

"I just checked for that too, Mr. Potter. The only potion Draco has consumed in the past few weeks has been Pepper Up, which doesn't have any restrictive or silencing capabilities," answer Pomfrey, recognizing the almost desperation in Harry's voice.

"Mate, maybe the Slytherins are right," that was Ron, using the tone Harry knew to mean 'Calm down, you're getting to into this'.

"Ron!"

"I'm sorry mate, but there is no spell. If Malfoy was lying to you about this, what if he was lying to you about the other things too? Maybe Zambini is telling the truth."

For some reason, the accusation made Harry particularly angry. Harry had no reason to really believe that Draco wasn't lying—it's not like Harry trusted him or anything—but something about the way Draco had been acting made Harry want to believe him.

The room went silent as Harry fought his internal battle, until McGonagall announced that it was time for supper. She ushered the students out of the Hospital Wing, glancing back at Harry just before she left. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said, then closed the door behind her.

"You're free to go, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said somberly, when the silence started to settle in the previously bustling room. "You don't have any lasting injuries that would keep you here. Go on to supper now," she continued, softening as she went on.

Harry leaned back heavily against his bed frame, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He turned to Draco, and watched the boy sleep for a few minutes, then said quietly. "Why haven't you healed him completely yet?"

Pomfrey paused, having expected Harry to leave as soon as she gave him the go ahead. "He needs Skele-Gro to fix his arm, but I can't feed it to him while he's still asleep. From my check up, I've found that Mr. Malfoy hasn't been sleeping or eating anywhere near as much as a boy his age should. He's malnourished, and sleep depraved, so I figured he needs as much rest as he can get. Not to mention I didn't want to wake him with everyone else in the room. They would have put stress on him that his body really doesn't need right now. I was planning on waking him up after you left, actually."

Harry stayed quiet, still watching Draco sleep. "Can I stay?" he asked.

"No! Didn't I just tell you he doesn't need to be stressed right now? Don't you think you arguing with him will make it worse?" Pomfrey was returned to her normal huffy self, then.

Harry didn't rise at all. "I promise I won't argue. I just want to talk to him. This is my only chance."

"You'll be seeing him everyday in classes when he gets out! How could this possibly your only chance to speak with him?"

"He's avoiding me. He's mad at me. I don't know why. I want to apologize and see if I can get anymore information from him."

"You can do that later, when he's stable. Now shoo!"

"Please?"

Madam Pomfrey stopped, softening again at the word. "What did you say, Mr. Potter?"

"Please, can I please stay and talk to Draco?" Harry's head was hurting too much for him to argue. But he couldn't pass up this chance.

Pomfrey sighed. "If I let you stay, you absolutely will not do anything to work him up. The second I see it happening, you're leaving, understand?"

Harry nodded. "Could I have another headache potion first?"

Pomfrey prepared the potion for him, as well as getting the Skele-Gro and taking the Bruise Paste back from Harry. She quickly cast a feather light charm on Draco's body, carefully arranging him so was sitting up like Harry was without bothering his arm, then releasing him and casting "Rennervate!"

Draco woke up, though not with a start, as Pomfrey and Harry were expecting. He looked around with bleary, half-asleep eyes, only to let them land on Harry. A slow smile spread on his face as he looked at Harry; "Hi, Harry," he mumbled, then started to attempt to move. Pomfrey was faster, and had her hand on his chest in seconds telling Draco to stay still.

Draco pouted, and mumbled again "I want to go by Harry!" but didn't make any attempts to move.

If Pomfrey was thrown for a loop by Draco's behavior she didn't show it, instead replying "Be good and sit still and Harry will come to you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

The smile came back then. "Okay," and he sat still. Pomfrey was reluctant to let him go for a few moments, then cautiously did so, only reaching for the Skele-Gro after she was sure he wouldn't try to move again.

"I need you to drink this, Draco," Pomfrey said sweetly, pouring out the necessary amount of medicine and offering it to Draco. "It doesn't taste good, but I need you swallow all of it. Can you do that for me?"

"Will Harry come here if I drink it?"

"Yes."

"Then alright," and Draco opened his mouth, waiting patiently for the medicine.

Pomfrey hesitated only a little, then fed the potion to Draco, who made an almost distressed noise as it burned his throat going down. Pomfrey petted his hair, giving him words of encouragement as she urged him to swallow the potion without spitting any of it out. Harry, who'd drunk his potion and was now a lot more lucid than Draco, was surprised that Draco was acting like and letting himself be treated like a child, but he didn't want to interrupt, so he stayed silent.

Draco coughed and spluttered when he finished, while Pomfrey patted him on the back. "Stop hitting me!" Draco snapped when he got his breath back, and it was clear to both of them that Draco was awake now.

Straightening up, the gentle air Pomfrey had had around her disappearing, she put the Skele-Gro back on the cart and put the Bruise Paste in Draco's lap. "Here you are, Mr. Malfoy," she said gruffly. "Have Mr. Potter help you put that on while I go check up on my other patients." Without waiting for answer, Pomfrey was gone, pulling the curtain around the two of their beds, leaving the two to their own devices.

"So, do you still want me to come to you?" Harry started conversationally, while Draco was fumbling with the Paste, attempting to open it with one hand.

"_Still_?"

"Yes, _still_, you were just calling for me a minute ago," Harry said, amused.

Draco blushed, mumbling "I thought I was dreaming," so low Harry was sure he wasn't meant to hear it. Why was Draco dreaming about him?

Pretending he hadn't heard, Harry continued. "Toss me the paste. There's no way you're going to get that open with one hand."

"I can do it myself!" Draco insisted, trying valiantly.

"Draco. Give it here."

Draco sighed, felling the magic wrap around his useable arm. "Take it," and he tossed it to Harry.

Harry caught it, frowning. "Have you been lying to me, Draco?"

"What?"

"Madam Pomfrey says that there's no spell on you. How am I supposed to help you if you lie to me?"

"I'm not lying to you. It is a spell."

"No it isn't!" Harry snapped, watching Draco cringe. "Someone is beating you, Draco, and you won't tell me who. You won't tell me how I'm supposed to help you; you won't tell me anything! What am I supposed to do?"

Draco was studying his lap, once again looking defeated. "…How did you find out someone was beating me? All I said was this was a punishment."

The fight left Harry just as quickly as it came. "Your glamour came off when you passed out. You were an absolute mess before Pomfrey cleaned you up. It's obvious to anyone who looks you didn't get all those injuries from just falling…Draco?"

Draco had frozen after the first sentence, and gotten progressively paler and more shaken up as Harry spoke. His eyes were almost comically wide, something Harry would have laughed at in any other situation. "It-It came…off?" Draco breathily whispered.

"Yeah."

"Who…Who saw?"

"Me, 'Mione, Ron, McGonagall, Pomfrey, Parkinson, Nott, and Zambini. Why?"

Draco didn't say anything, just continued to make breathy sounds until Harry moved from his bed and stood near Draco's. "Did you…tell…them anything?" Draco was trembling now, looking at something Harry couldn't see.

"…Yeah…"

"What did you say?"

"I told them about what happened in the shower, and Hermione talked about what happened when you tried to mail a letter to your Mum a couple weeks ago…Wh…Draco?"

Draco was in tears. His good arm was wrapped around his body, and his legs were pulled up to his chest. He was chanting "No," into his legs and seemed to have forgotten Harry was there.

"Draco?" Harry tried again, gingerly placing his hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Harry…hurry up," Draco hiccupped, leaning into Harry's touch.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, trying genuinely not to freak out like he'd down the last time something like this happened.

"He's going to kill me. Hurry up and save me. I can't take this for much longer."

Harry's blood ran cold. "Who's going to kill you? Save you from who?"

"No!"

"You can't tell me, can you?"

"No…"

"At least tell me what I'm supposed to do to save you. I have no idea, and I might have to do this on my own."

"No."

"Give me a hint, then."

"Books."

"You told me that already."

"You haven't looked yet. You're not expecting this book, but it's in books. Find a book that'll tell you about me and it'll tell you what to do."

"What kind of books am I looking for?"

"No."

"Where am I looking for the book?"

"No."

"You can't be any more specific than that?"

"No. If I'm too specific, I'll tell you too much, and the spell won't let me do that. It hurts if I try."

"Madam Pomfrey says there is no spell."

"It is a spell, just not one she looked for," Draco winced, the noose tightening a little for the slightly too specific detail.

"You aren't lying to me are you?"

Draco glared harshly through his tears. "Why in Merlin's name would I lie to you when I need you to save me? What would that accomplish besides getting me killed?"

"Why do you need _me _to save you? It can't be anyone else?"

"No. No one else. Only you."

Harry sighed. "I need more information. Is there any way you can tell me more?"

"…I could…write something down…" Draco whispered, halfway hoping Harry wouldn't hear.

"What did you say?"

"I could write something down," Draco repeated, louder. "I'll give you a hint; why you're the only one who can save me. I'll write it down."

"You can do that?" Harry exclaimed, nearly forgetting Draco was leaning on him and letting him fall. "Why didn't you do that before?"

Draco mumbled something unintelligible, than had Harry conjure a piece of parchment and a quill. Swallowing inaudibly, Draco put the quill on the paper, then immediately pulled away.

"What's wrong?"

Draco shook his head, and said "Nothing." Taking his trembling hand, he determinedly wrote, ignoring the pain in his hands that got worse every scratch he made on the paper. He was incredibly slow moving in his writing, unable to go any faster from the pain, and he almost dropped the quill a feel times when he got to the 'T'.

It wasn't until then, did Harry noticed Draco was actually hurting himself by writing, and he moved to grab Draco's hand, only to have Draco snap at him to let him finish. Harry had to restrain himself from grabbing Draco again as he got to the 'E'. Draco's hand was started to make rather grotesque noises that Harry could recognize as the sound of breaking bones. Draco was gritting his teeth, and stopping frequently, but refused to give up until he'd finished the letter, and his hand was about as ruined as his arm.

"There," he panted, already on the brink of unconsciousness. "That's why. That's you. Mine," then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "I'm sorry," and was out again, before Harry could even respond.

On the parchment, barely legible thanks to Draco's trembling and jerking, were the letters M, A, T, E.

Mate.

Harry was Draco's mate?


End file.
